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geminiwritten · 3 months ago

Text

photos ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

summary: you’re in a perpetually bad mood because you're in love with tyler and he's clueless, but what happens when you 'accidentally' send him some scandalous photos?

notes: two in one week?! that's crazy! but also i decided to write for someone other than bradley bradshaw (tg:m) because my love for him is all consuming... it still is, but i really hope y'all enjoy this little fic! it was so fun to write, and please, give me all the feedback!

warnings: swearing, very horny without being smut but STILL ONLY 18+ PLEASE, drinking, taking and sending of naughty pictures, use of tinder, text / message screenshots, italics, references to the movie 13 Going on 30, some pet names (e.g. babygirl, baby, darlin'), use of the word 'bimbo' but it is regretted, and this is actually pretty wordy but it kind of had to be?

word count: 7251

Lily flops into the lawn chair beside yours. Her dreadlocks are half up and she isn’t wearing the same clothes that you’d seen her in half an hour ago. She must have just showered.

She offers you the packet of gummy bears in her hand as she settles back into the chair. “So, who are we trying to set on fire?”

You turn to face her, dragging your eyes away from said person you’re metaphorically trying to set on fire. “Who do you think?”

She giggles, the packet in her hand rustling as you take a handful of gummy bears. “He’s so clueless.”

“He’s so stupid,” you mutter, before shoving the candy into your mouth.

Tyler Owens, famous Tornado Wrangler and your best friend since you transferred to his high school in sophomore year. You’re not sure why he took a liking to you when you showed up on your first day with untied laces and a torn backpack. You’d been running late and got your backpack caught on a particularly spikey tree branch as you bolted from your parents’ car toward the school’s front steps. You’ve always assumed he felt bad for you, so he offered you his friendship. But to this day, he maintains that wasn’t the case, despite not giving you any other explanation as to why he would have wanted to befriend the weird new kid.

“I wonder what it’s like to have everyone fall all over you all the time,” Lily says, her eyes watching Tyler with curiosity as opposed to your scorching attempt to telepathically light his hat on fire. Or maybe just the leg of his pants. Nothing too crazy, you don’t want him to get hurt. You just want him to stop talking to that gorgeous woman.

You blow a long, tired breath out through your nose. “I wonder what it’s like go after what you want.”

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you.” Boone appears from behind you, stepping in front of your lawn chair and blocking your view of Tyler. “I’m right here. If you want me, take me.”

You roll your eyes, a small smirk ghosting over your lips. “Oh, Boone. You see right through me. I want you. I need you. Take me right here in this chair.”

Lily giggles at your sarcasm while Boone blinks slowly, trying to process what he just heard. When a full-blown grin splits across your face and laughter bubbles from your lips, he sighs. “You’re such a tease, woman. Don’t play with my heart like that.”

Before you can respond, Tyler steps up beside Boone and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Boone, you sweet idiot, you can’t tell a siren not to sing.”

Your smile is quickly replaced by a scowl. “Siren?”

Tyler nods, turning the full force of his gorgeous grin on you. “Yeah. The beautiful kind with the sweet voices that lure sailors-”

“To their death.” You push to stand and cross your arms. “They’re also not beautiful, they’re half bird. And they eat the sailors. So, you know what? Sounds like they've got men figured out.”

You turn and stomp up the stairs to the second floor of the motel you’re currently staying at. You know you seem a little childish, but you can’t help it. How many years are you going to have to watch Tyler with those fucking buckle bunnies before you break? Granted, there aren’t so many actual buckle bunnies since he quit bull riding, but they’re all the same to you. Drop dead gorgeous women hanging on for a piece of the man you’ve been in love with since junior year.

After a hot shower and a couple of overpriced minibar drinks – three little bottles of various alcohols – you fall onto the motel bed. This place is nicer than most of the other establishments you've stayed at, and the deadbolts on the door are giving you a sense of security you rarely have. Half the time you end up in Tyler’s room because you don’t feel safe behind the flimsy doors of dodgy motels, but you’ve resisted the past few weeks.

You’re just about at your breaking point where Tyler Owens is concerned, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this best friend bullshit.

Your phone dings and draws your attention away from the Friday night movie playing on the small TV screen. You know who it is before you even see the notifications.

Your thumbs hover over your phone screen, poised to type but paralysed because you can’t decide what to say. Tyler is too nice and too fucking oblivious. You’re still too irritated to be nice back to him, so you sigh and smack your phone face down on the bedside table. You grab the remote and turn the volume of the TV down before curling on your side to watch the movie.

As the movie draws to an end and your heavy eyelids start to droop, a cold wave of realisation washes over you. The credits start to roll and you sit up straight, suddenly wide awake. Your eyes dart toward your phone, still sitting on the bedside table, and the bud of an idea begins to bloom at the forefront of your brain.

You tip your head and wonder aloud, “Is that a stupid idea?”

Mark Ruffalo was in love with his best friend – Jennifer Garner – but she didn’t see him that way until it was too late. Maybe you need to force Tyler’s hand? Make him see you that way. You’ve known each other since you were both awkward, hormonally challenged teenagers. You can’t really blame him for not seeing past your horrendous struggle with puberty.

You jump off the bed and strip out of your shirt and sweats, only briefly acknowledging the fact that the shirt actually belongs to Tyler. You open your duffel bag and dig right down to the bottom to retrieve the one set of nice lingerie that you own. You’re not sure you’ve ever actually worn it out, you’ve only ever used it for the exact thing that you’re about to do now.

After changing into the pretty lace set and double-checking the curtains are drawn, you grab your phone and stand in front of the full-length mirror fixed to the motel room’s wall. You’re no Victoria’s Secret model, but you do know how to pose to make yourself look fucking good.

You twist and move in front of the mirror, taking pictures and analysing them before taking some more. You move the lamp and switch the ceiling lights on and off for different shadows and effects on your body. You take off half the set and try the front facing camera for some more risqué poses and teasing photos. By the time you finally decide you should go to bed, you’re actually sweating.

You prop your phone face up on the small bathroom vanity as you brush your teeth and swipe through the photos. You giggle softly to yourself, wondering where you possibly picked up the audacity to think that sending Tyler some sexy photos was a good idea. Looking at them now, your stomach curls anxiously at the idea of sending these images to your best friend – you blame the minibar. Yeah, they’re fucking hot photos, but it’s also an incredibly risky thing to do. There’s a good chance he’s already thought of you in that way and just decided that he’s not interested. What if he saw the pictures and was actually disgusted? It would ruin your friendship and the whole crew's dynamic. You’d have to pack your shit and leave.

Your second thoughts and anxiety still don’t stop you from favouriting the best photos as you crawl back into bed. You can still use those pictures if you ever decide to get over Tyler by getting under someone else. You put your phone on charge and snuggle into a nest of pillows, letting your heavy eyelids fall shut. Maybe tomorrow night you can get drunk and flirt with someone hot and available, and then you can show them your sexy photos.

The next day starts like any other. Dexter and Dani use the motel’s communal barbecue to cook a greasy breakfast while Tyler gets coffees for everyone, and then it’s time to work. There isn’t a lot of promise in today’s blue sky, so you spend half the day at the motel before going for a five-minute drive to the nearest diner for lunch. You insist on riding in the RV instead of Tyler’s truck, but you regret it immediately after seeing his confused hurt-puppy face.

“So, where are we going out tonight?” Boone asks before popping a fry into his mouth.

Tyler shrugs, his green eyes darting up from his burger to look at you across the table. “Any bar around here that looks good.”

“There’s a decent place just around the corner from the motel,” Dexter says. “I’ve been there once before, I think. A year or two ago.”

“There’ll be a tonne of chasers there tonight,” Dani pipes up. “Truckloads of ‘em were pulling into the motel all day, and after such an uneventful Saturday, they’ll be wanting to blow off some steam.”

Tyler nods once. “Good. I need to blow off some steam too.”

You keep your head tipped downward so no one can see you roll your eyes. Yeah, you’re still a little mad at him even though he has no idea why. You know it’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Every time you see his ridiculously gorgeous face, your anger flares. Or is that just pent-up horniness? Maybe if you get laid, you might stop being so mad all the time.

Boone chuckles and nudges Tyler’s side. “Need a blow, do ya, T?”

Warmth flushes across your chest and creeps up your neck. Images of Tyler standing over you flash through your mind, his jeans down around his ankles and his thick length hitting the back of your throat.

Tyler chuckles, but it’s a little wooden. Strained. “You have no idea.”

“Gross,” Lily states, before pretending to gag.

Boone grins. “We’ll find you a lady tonight. Don’t worry.”

Dexter scoffs. “Like he needs help with the ladies.”

You swallow down the green-eyed monster trying to claw up your throat and finally look up from your plate of fries. “Is everyone done? Can we go back now?”

Although you avoid looking at him, Tyler is watching you curiously. His brows are pinched and his lips turned down ever-so-slightly. He knows you, and he definitely knows something is up. If you don’t fix your attitude soon, you’re going to have to explain a lot more than you’d like.

“I was actually going to go to the pharmacy in town,” Dexter says. “I need to pick up a few things.”

“Me too,” Dani adds.

Lily raises one hand in the air. “I’ll tag along too, if that’s okay.”

Tyler pulls his keys out of his back pocket and hands them to Boone. “Then Boone can drive the truck into town and I’ll take the RV.”

You frown. “And me?”

Tyler grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “With me. You said you wanted to go back.”

You roll your lips and nod slowly. Yep, you just played right into his hand.

The group stack their empty plates and gather their things before shuffling out of the diner. You’re the first out the door, dropping your sunglasses from the top of your head to your nose and gazing up at the blue sky. The buttery sun soothes your skin, and you suddenly realise that you can’t remember the last time you went to the beach. You might need to take a break from chasing soon. Who knows, maybe Tyler will kick you off the crew because of your childish attitude. Then you can go to the beach and enjoy sunny weather for once.

“Ready?” The man himself appears beside you, tossing the keys into the air before catching them again.

You don’t reply, you just nod and start walking toward the RV. The others call their goodbyes across the small, gravel parking lot, and you give them a lazy wave as you pull yourself up into the passenger’s seat of the RV’s cabin.

“You wanna drive?” Tyler asks, his southern drawl in full force as he stands in the open door of the driver’s side.

You’re already in the passenger seat, pulling your seatbelt across your body. “You know I hate driving this thing, Ty.”

He chuckles and hoists himself up before pulling the door shut and jamming the keys into the ignition. He takes a moment to adjust all the peripherals before turning the key and easing the big vehicle through the parking lot.

“So,” he says as he turns out of the lot and onto the road. “Want to talk about it?”

You keep your gaze fixed out the windscreen. “Talk about what?”

“Your mood.”

You keep your voice light as you reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolls his eyes and presses harder on the gas, urging the RV to pick up speed toward your motel. The drive isn’t long, you just have to keep your attitude under control for four more minutes.

“Look,” he starts again, his hands gripping the wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what’s wrong. All I do know is that something is wrong and has been for a while. You know I like giving you your space. We’re all so on top of each other when we’re out on the road, it’s important to remember that we all need a break sometimes. But whenever you want to talk, I’m here. You know that. I’m always here.”

You can’t help it. Your lips move before you can even think about the words that they’re saying. “Except when you’ve got a better offer.”

His head snaps toward you. “What was that?”

Heat blooms in your cheeks and your heart races anxiously as you see the turn for the motel up ahead. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this all because of me?” His head swivels as he tries to read your face while also watching the road. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” you lie. “It’s not always about you.” Fuck. You’re on a roll today.

Thick silence fills the air of the cabin, and you can’t let yourself look at Tyler because you know you just hurt him. He’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s one of the best guys you know. But he’s oblivious to the way you feel, has been for years, and you can’t help it if your frustration is manifesting in an ugly way.

The RV rocks as it climbs the driveway into the motel. He parks in the same spot as before and you practically fall out the door the second the vehicle is stopped. You don’t look back as you climb the stairs toward your motel room. You slam the door and flop onto the bed, too frustrated to cry and too full of self-pity to think about apologising to Tyler.

You spend the rest of the day in your room. At six o’clock you get a message from Lily asking if you’re still coming out with them, to which you reply with a thumbs up. You’re not mad at Lily, but she at least knows why you’re in a foul mood. However misdirected your anger might be.

You shower and change into that lacey lingerie set from the photos, deciding that tonight it’s going to get its debut outing. You slide into a pair of jeans and your nicest top before adding a touch of makeup to your face and walking out the door. When you’re on the road, you don’t really have a whole lot of nice clothes for going out, but you do feel a little pleased when you see your pretty reflection in the motel windows on your way along the balcony.

“Why don’t you wear those jeans more often?” Boone asks from the bottom of the stairs as you descend.

“Because then you’d be too distracted all the time.”

He grins and offers you his hand for the last few steps. “I’m always distracted by your beauty.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “God, Boone. You’re such a flirt.”

He chuckles and guides you to the bottom of the stairs before letting go of your hand and walking off toward where Dexter is packing up some of the equipment he’d been tinkering with this afternoon. Eventually, everyone meets in the parking lot and the group decide to walk, because the bar is only around the corner.

It’s already pretty busy by the time you get there, but you manage to find a tall bar table that seats all of you while Tyler goes off to get the first round of drinks. Your friends quickly dive into a discussion about what the next week could bring and where you plan to go from here, but your eyes are glued to Tyler.

He’s leaning forward against the bar, a huge grin split across his face as a very gorgeous bartender takes his order. She has a smirk on her lips that says she gets what she wants, and by the way she’s looking at Tyler, you don’t have to guess that he is what she wants tonight.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll to the last page of apps you’ve ignored for almost a year now. Dating apps. You’re not a fan of them, but if anything, they’ve helped you get laid. You open one and enter your log in details before adjusting your location and starting to quickly swipe through a few profiles. You know it’s dumb, and you’re feeling more along the lines of pathetic than horny right now, but you need something to think about that isn’t Tyler fucking Owens.

“Turns out I’ve been here before,” Tyler says as he drops the tray of drinks onto the table. “The bartender said she remembers me.”

Of course she does.

Boone wags his eyebrows suggestively. “The hot bartender?”

Tyler chuckles, but he doesn’t turn to ogle at the bar like the rest of the group. “I guess she could be considered attractive.”

“You guess?” Dani slams her drink back down on the table. “Come on, T. Your standards can’t be that high.”

He shrugs one shoulder and takes a long draw from his beer. “What can I say?”

Before you have the chance to roll your eyes, your phone vibrates in your hand. You lean back and unlock the screen, angling it so that neither Lily nor Boone can see from either side of you. Two messages from a guy name Owen. Of course. It couldn’t be a Jack or a Sam. No, the universe just loves making fun of you too much.

Well, that was easy.

You slide your phone into your back pocket before picking up your drink and draining half of it. You can feel Tyler’s eyes on you, but you ignore him. You keep your gaze fixed on Dexter as he tells an animated story about the last time he was at this bar.

The next time you pull your phone out, you have a few more messages from Owen. He tells you that he’s working late at the local liquor store but can meet up later, which you happily agree to – it seems stupid to pretend that you’re in this for anything other than sex. He then asks for your number, because the store he works at has shitty reception, so you give it to him and wait for his first text to set him up as a new contact. Who knows, maybe the next time you’re in town you could hit him up.

The night wears on and you continue sinking drinks to keep yourself happily buzzed. There are more chasers here just as Dani had predicted, and your group ends up scattered throughout the bar catching up with old friends. You manage to avoid Tyler for most of the night, but it isn’t easy. He watches you like a hawk, analysing every little move you make and practically breathing down your neck every time you slide your phone out of your pocket.

You tap Lily on the shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom and then getting another drink. You want?”

She shakes her head and waves a hand. “I’m good, thanks.”

You nod once and turn toward where you think the toilets might be. You pass Dexter, who is chatting with a group of chasers you don’t recognise, and then Dani and Boone, who are giving a dramatic retelling of the last close call you all had.

You find the bathrooms and slip inside. You lock yourself in the first stall, shimmy your jeans down, and sit. Then you pull your phone out to reply to Owen. He’s polite, not too creepy, and seems to have no issue being honest. He’s telling you that he’s excited to meet up, because it’s been a long week and he really needs to get laid. You find yourself smiling at your phone as you reply, telling him that you’re feeling the exact same way.

As you wash your hands and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you start to realise that maybe you’re a little more buzzed than you thought. Not that it’s a problem, because a little liquid courage always helps you out when it comes to one-night-stands, but you might need to start watching what you say. Alcohol can be a very dangerous catalyst for honesty.

When you step out of the bathroom, it feels even more crowded than before. You almost have to shoulder your way to the bar. Once you find a spot, you lean your forearms against the wood and squint to see what draughts they have on tap.

The gorgeous bartender that served Tyler earlier steps toward you. “Hey hon, what can I get ya?”

You try to wear a polite smile as you tell her your drink, but you can’t help feeling that it just looks twisted. She nods and starts pouring. You fish into your jeans’ pockets for cash before dropping it on the bar as she hands you your fresh schooner. The first sip is crisp and delicious, but quickly ruined by what you see across the room.

Nestled in the corner by the front of the bar is Tyler and some blonde bombshell who looks like she just walked out of a rodeo-themed photoshoot for Victoria’s Secret. They’re leaning on one of the tall tables, practically toe to toe, and she’s licking her lips as she watches him tell whatever stupid story he’s telling.

You storm back over to Lily with a scowl, but she’s too invested in her conversation to notice your renewed foul mood. You sit up on the barstool and take another generous sip of beer, letting the bubbly drink cool you from the inside out. Tyler is a grown-ass man. He can do what he wants, make his own decisions, and fuck whatever he pleases. You need to get over it.

After a couple of deep breaths, you’re feeling more sad than angry. But that won’t do either. You need to feel something positive, even if it is only fleeting. So you pull your phone out, lean away from the group of people chatting with Lily, and pull up your photos. Yep, those photos.

Your heart thuds heavily in your chest, your pulse ringing in your ears. This shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking, but it’s been so long since you’ve done something like this. It’s been so long since the last time you tried to get over Tyler Owens.

You choose three of your favourite photos. One is in the mirror, simple and saucy, showcasing the full ensemble. The second one is of you kneeling in front of the mirror, closer than the last and angled so that every curve looks a little extra enticing. The third photo is with the front-facing camera, the phone angled down to get your body instead of your face. You’ve taken off the top part of the set and you’re barely covering your nipples with one arm.

You’re not a vain or particularly conceited person, but you know these photos are good.

You squint and focus on your phone as you select the three photos and tap the ‘share’ symbol in the corner of your dim screen. It’s a little fuzzy through your beer goggles, but you don’t want to turn the brightness up right now, so you persevere. The share options fill the bottom half of the screen, and you carefully tap on the text messages app logo. A ‘New Message’ pops up, the little cursor blinking on the ‘To:’ line. You type carefully, O-W-E-N, and pick the contact that pops up. Then you hit that little send button.

The next few seconds pass in slow motion.

You look up from your phone and your eyes find Tyler across the bar. He’s smiling at the blonde, but then something else summons his attention. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and lifts it up to his face. His grin vanishes and his cheeks flush bright red at the same time that your stomach plummets. It falls so fast and so hard, you’re almost sure it’s fallen right out of your ass.

Your eyes go wide, and you can feel your heart beating in your throat as it tries to crawl up. Or is that all the beer you’ve drank tonight? You feel sick. You need to get out of here. Fuck. You need to unsend that fucking text.

“Are you okay?” Lily’s voice is distant even though she’s right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh-” You slip off the barstool. “Gotta go. Feel sick.”

One glance across the bar has your stomach doing another gymnastics routine, flipping and spinning wildly, trying to expel every drop of alcohol you’ve consumed in the past few hours. Tyler isn’t with the blonde anymore, he’s weaving his way through the throngs of people toward you.

Luckily, you’re closer to the door than he is. You squeeze through a group of chasers who you kind of recognise, but you don’t give yourself time to get a proper look. You duck out the door and start walking down the street. You don’t want to run, you’re not sure your wobbly legs can manage it right now, and you don’t want to draw attention.

The motel is just around the corner. If you get there in time, you can lock yourself in your room before Tyler catches you. Then you can pack your shit and run. Like really run. Because fuck, there is no coming back from this.

You hear your name called out behind you, but you easily recognise his voice, so you don’t turn around. You keep walking, your footsteps heavy and your breath coming and going in ragged gasps. You open your phone as you round the corner, bringing up your text thread with Tyler that makes your head spin. You sent him those photos. Fuck. He must think you’re insane.

Your eyes narrow on the contact name ‘Owens’ with a little tornado emoji beside it. The universe is definitely laughing at you right now. You hold down on the photo message and look for the ‘unsend’ button. But there isn’t one. There’s a ‘delete’ button, but you know that will only delete it from your side of the chat. He’s got these photos now. There’s no going back.

He calls your name again as you turn into the motel. It’s not far now, you might actually make it.

You book it across the parking lot and start up the stairs to the second-floor rooms. Your fingers fumble for the key in your pocket as you approach your door. Your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t dare to look back because you know he’s close. You can feel it.

The key slides into the lock and you practically fall into the room. You spin on your heel and try to slam the door shut. It gets most of the way until a booted foot slides across the threshold. The door stills, five inches of light from the outside slicing through the dark motel room. All you can hear is your heavy breathing and the panting from the man holding the door ajar.

You close your eyes and steel your nerves. Maybe it’s time you quit chasing.

You take a deep breath and open the door again. “Yes, Tyler?”

He looks downright feral. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wild, his hair is mussed, and you’re pretty sure his hands are vibrating in fists by his sides.

“What”– his voice is so deep, it’s almost a growl –“the fuck was that?”

You tip your head, feigning innocent curiosity. “Was what?”

His eyes darken and he licks his lips. Like a predator sizing up its prey. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“But I thought that was your favourite game.” You take a step back from the door. “Isn’t that why you’re always hanging out with those buckle bunny bimbos?”

You feel sick as the words leave your lips. You hate being a bitch and you hate that being frustrated and upset makes you one, but you can’t help it. If Tyler is going to have a go at you for accidentally sending him some photos, then you’re going to have a go back. Sure, your oldest and most important childhood friendship is about to blow up. But tit for tat is still important, right?

His eyes narrow and he pushes the door all the way open to step inside. “What are you talking about?”

You decide, for the first time tonight, to think before you speak. So you take your time. You turn and walk toward the bed before flopping down at the foot of it and bending over to unlace your boots.

“It was an accident.” You get one shoe off. “I didn’t mean to send those photos to you.” You get the other shoe off. “So, I’m sorry if your blonde friend saw them and freaked out. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

He pushes the door to swing shut behind his towering frame. “Ruin my night?”

You stand up, because he’s too intimidating right now for you to be sitting down.

“Wait.” His brows pinch and he glances at the floor before looking back at you with something fiery behind his eyes. “You accidentally sent them to me?”

You nod.

“Who the fuck were you trying to send them to?”

The venom in his voice startles you, and you rear back a little. “How is that any of your business?”

He steps closer. “It isn’t, but you’re going to tell me.”

You scoff. “Is that so?”

He takes a deep, rattly breath. You can see the muscles in his jaw ticking under the pressure of how hard he’s clenching. He’s so close that you can smell him. That intoxicating mix of fresh earth and cedarwood. He smells exactly like the dense air before a storm.

You startle again when he grips your chin, forcing you to stay still as he leans in even closer. “Babygirl,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning over your skin. “You cannot send me photos like that and then tell me they were meant for another man.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes bouncing between his. They’re hardly green anymore, they’re black. His pupils are so blown, you can only just see a thin ring of colour around them.

“You think you’ve ruined my night?” he asks.

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin doesn’t let you.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words, darlin’.”

His southern drawl sends a shock of electricity right to your core. You can feel the ache building behind your hipbones, pulsing and growing and making you squeeze your thighs together.

“Yes.”

He chuckles, but it’s deep and dark and full of something other than amusement. “The only thing you’ve ruined is my fucking patience.”

You don’t know what to say. Your brain might as well be melting out of your ears as you stare at the hungry face of the man you’ve loved for God knows how long. All you can do is blink at him, wondering when you’ll wake up from this dream.

“Who were you trying to send them to?” he asks again.

“Owen,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper.

He raises his brows. “Who the fuck is Owen?”

“Tinder.”

He lets go of your chin and rises back to his full height. “You were on fucking Tinder?”

Without his face so close and his paralysing touch, you feel a little more in control of yourself. You let your anger simmer and soak through your body, reminding yourself why you took those photos in the first place.

“Why do you care if I’m on Tinder?” you snap. “And why the fuck do you care who I send those photos to?”

“I care because no man on this planet deserves to see those fucking photos,” he growls. “No one is good enough to see you like that.”

You cross your arms and scowl up at him. “That doesn’t even make any sense, Tyler. What the fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to join a nunnery?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you’re not done.

“You can’t just blow up at me about a couple of stupid photos and because I’m on Tinder. Who gives a fuck? I’m an adult woman who can fuck whoever she wants, and you’re a grown-ass man who doesn’t get a fucking say in it! Why don’t you just go back to screwing every woman in Oklahoma and leave me and my personal life alone?”

You’ve never seen Tyler this angry. He looks like one of those huffing bulls he used to ride. His chest is heaving, his knuckles are white, and his expression is angrier than any storm cloud you’ve ever seen – which is saying something.

“Is that really what you think of me?” His voice is surprisingly calm compared to his demeanour.

You nod once, keeping your expression as flat as possible.

He cocks his head, his eyes challenging. “Really? After all the years we’ve known each other, you think that I’m just some man-whore who’s making his way through the state?”

You don’t reply. What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Of course you don’t think of him as a man-whore, but you can’t exactly tell him what you do think of him. You’re not even sure why you’re fighting right now. Shouldn’t you just be embarrassed and apologising? Wasn’t the original plan to pack your shit and get out of here? You should be packing a bag and high tailing it out of this stupid little town.

“When did you take those photos?” he asks suddenly, looking past you.

You glance over your shoulder to follow his gaze, finding the incriminating mirror. You sigh. “Last night.”

“Who did you take them for last night?” His voice is strained, as if he doesn’t really want to ask the question but he has to know.

You look back at him, studying his furious expression and fiery eyes. You’ve never seen Tyler so worked up. He looks like he’s in the boxing ring waiting for another blow, waiting for you to punch him again so he can unleash another torrent of misplaced rage.

Maybe it’s time to surprise him. Hit him where he’s least expecting it.

“You.”

His scowl vanishes and his eyes grow wide. His mouth pops open, like he’s going to reply but there’s no connection between his brain and his voice box. He’s paralysed.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, watching him anxiously. His eyes are scanning your features, looking for something – maybe he’s hoping your joking? He opens his mouth a couple of times, but he still can’t find any words. You let out a soft sigh and decide that you’re already knee deep, you might as well dive in.

“It’s stupid, but yeah, I took them with the intention of sending them to you.” You let your eyes trace the collar of his flannel shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “Then I realised it was a dumb idea, and I didn’t. But then I was messaging this guy tonight and when I went to send them to Owen, I hit your contact name… Owensss.” You emphasise the ‘s’ and swirl your finger, as if mimicking a little tornado.

When you finally look back up at his face, he doesn’t look disgusted or offended. He looks confused.

“Why were you going to send them to me?”

You groan and drop back onto the bed, hiding your face in your hands. “Really, Ty? Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?”

You split your hands and peak up at him, but his expression hasn’t changed.

“Fine.” You huff and stand up again, ignoring the way it makes your head spin. “Tyler fucking Owens, I’m in love with you. I have been since junior year of high school when you asked me to prom instead of any of those other girls who were falling all over you. I’ve been in love with you through every stupid boyfriend I’ve had and every dumb life decision you’ve made, and I was so sick of seeing you with other women that I thought sending you some embarrassing fucking photos would make you change your mind. But I know now that if you felt any special way about me, you would’ve told me by now. So please, just let me pack my shit and get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” he echoes. “Baby, the only place you’re getting is in my fucking bed.”

Before you can even process his words, he swoops forward and crashes his lips against yours. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, steadying yourself as he kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. Your head spins and your knees wobble, but his arms wrap around your waist to hold you up.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, giving and taking as he pleases and making you moan against his mouth. His stubble scratches your chin and your cheeks, and your mind immediately imagines it rasping against your inner thighs. You want to squeeze your legs together, but he shoves his thigh between then, bending his knee so that you’re practically riding his leg as his lips assault yours.

You can’t stop yourself from grinding down, desperate for any kind of friction to ease the ache between your legs. When your lips part in a whimper, Tyler’s tongue slips past them, and he tips your head back. His mouth devours every little moan and sigh as you continue to ride his thigh. His hands grip your hips, hard enough to bruise, and they guide you up and down. You can feel his belt buckle digging into your lower belly, and you can feel his hard length beside it.

“Ty,” you whisper, your lungs aching for air. “Please.”

“Please what, darlin’?”

You almost whine as he drags you slowly up his thigh. “Fuck me.”

He chuckles, his breath hitting your damp and puffy lips. He stops forcing you to move and relaxes his leg, setting you back on your own unsteady feet. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy with him looking at you so intensely after that.

“Okay, but I’ve got a few ground rules.”

Your chest deflates as you let out a long breath. Here it goes. He’s going to tell you that this is a one-time thing, that it can’t be weird in the morning, and that you can’t tell anyone else about it. You feel a little stupid for believing that he would kiss you for any other reason than the fact that he’s horny. You ruined his shot with that blonde bombshell and then sent him those photos, of course he’s horny. It doesn’t matter that you just laid yourself fucking bare. He probably wasn’t even listening to all that. You told him you’re in love with him and he told you to get into his bed. He either didn’t hear you or doesn’t give a shit.

“Hey.” He grips your chin again and forces you to look up at him, at those smouldering eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

You blink twice, unsure what to say.

“Rule number one-”

“Ty-”

He kisses you again, but it’s only quick. “No, let me finish. You had that whole speech before, so it’s my turn.”

You can’t nod because he’s still holding your chin, so you roll lips and wait.

“Good.” He lets go of your chin and puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “Rule number one is that no other person can ever see those fucking photos, you got it?”

You nod, and then he pushes you gently so that you’re sitting on the bed.

“Rule number two, you’re going to send me every single one of those photos that you took.”

Your brows pinch together, and he wedges a leg between your knees to push them apart.

“Rule number three, you’re mine now. Only mine.” He steps in between your legs and cups your head in both hands. “No more Tinder, no more bullshit. I’m the only one that gets to look at you and touch you, and I’m sure and shit the only one who gets to love you. You got that?”

Your mouth parts and he runs his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “You love me?”

He grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “Since the first day you ran into class late. Your hair was all windswept and your cheeks were all red. You looked like you’d just fallen from fucking heaven.”

You can’t help the very unladylike snort of laughter that comes out of you. “Tyler, that is the lamest thing you’ve ever said.”

“But it worked. You’re smiling for the first time in who knows how long.”

He leans down and presses his lips against yours again, but this time it’s gentle. He urges forward and you slowly pull yourself further up the bed, being careful not to let your lips leave his. He crawls on top of you, placing a knee on either side of your thighs where you now lay beneath him.

“I think I’m going to have a hard time not smiling now,” you murmur against his mouth.

He pulls back and hits you with the full force of that gorgeous smirk as he holds himself over you on all fours. “You’re gonna have a hard time not screaming my name in a minute.”

You mirror him with your own cocky grin and press your palm against his hard length, restrained in his jeans. “You sure about that.”

He eyelids flutter shut and his lips pop open, a soft sigh escaping them. When he looks back down at you with dark, hungry eyes, you can feel your own arousal soaking through your panties.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

END.

#tyler owens #glen powell #twisters #tyler owens x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #imagine #glen powell x reader #twisters movie

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dragonstailbutch · 3 months ago

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Help Two Stuggling Disabled Butch and Femme Trans Women

So our quite frankly awful ill-parted ex gave us two weeks notice in march that she was moving and then attempted to steal from and insulted my partner, and didnt even tell us she was going to turn off the water let alone when it would happen. A few days ago, the landlord served a eviction notice to us, which means we need to be out and SOON

So right now were waiting for the power and wifi to just turn off at the same time as we're trying to move to a place thats super isolated in a very conservative area in U.S.A South. We will be a 15 minute drive to a ridiculously small town and a 40 minute drive to a Walmart. The house itself is from the 1930s/40s and falling apart.

On TOP of this, the several hundred gallon water pump that was at the house not three days ago was stolen and then we were told lies to our faces about how its been gone for a while. To add insult to injury, it was replaced with a smaller, crappier and broken pump. Which, WHY? our life is a bad YouTube comedy movie, especially because we had at the same time finally gotten the water pipes in the house fixed

we currently have 140$ in our combined bank accounts right now, which doesnt cover two weeks of groceries, let alone also the gas required to move to the house

please help us with whatever you can, we need as much assistance as we can get for groceries, repairs, clothes, even bills, theres no easily gotten employment opportunities for a trans woman in that area so we really need it

venmo- @crow-forgemaster or my patners @Prince_Nova

cashapp- $dragonforgedbutch or my partners $StrayNova

kofi- dragonbutch

currently people have donated:

418/2000$

#the dragon speaks #dragon speaks #please help #fundraising #life saving donation post #donation post #donations #donate if you can #please donate #donate if possible #mutual support #mutual aid #mutual fundraising

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chaoticwriting · 6 months ago

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The First Son

All the batkids have one common secret they are keeping from Bruce. That is the fact that there is a new vigilante in town. At first they were confused when they heard rumors that the bats had a new member since Bruce hasn't introduced anyone to this guy.

It is only after a little prodding that they realize that the guy they are talking about is just a new vigilante. A good one too. No one has seen him and the only reason they know it's a he is because of his voice. The goons often call him The Phantom.

At first, they were very wary of this new guy. Last thing they need is a new guy who decides to do whatever the hell they want in the city. But no. Phantom doesn't interfere with anyone's works nor does he create chaos whenever he works. The guy operation is smooth and if not for the unconscious bodies sprawled on the ground, no one would even realize he is there.

The first contact they ever had with Phantom is when Phantom gives them a tip of an Arkham breakout in the planning. No one knows how he knows but he just is. His information gathering is better than any of them including Tim and Barbara. They also successfully established a way of contact between them. Whenever any of them need help, they will leave a sticky note on the bat signal and they will receive whatever intel they want the next day. They try to see him by staying right beside the signal and even setting up cameras but none of them works with either the sticky note straight up disappearing or the cameras becoming static with the sticky note getting replaced with the Intel when the static is gone.

And so they go like this for a few more months when suddenly a tip comes up from an unlikely source.

Talia Al-Ghul has informed them that because of desperation Ra's is planning on kidnapping Tim and Damian to use them in a battle against Talia. She has been working to take over the League of Assassin after she gained news of her own father having dark plans against his own son. After the recent fatal blow to her father's faction, in a desperate attempt to defeat her, decides to break his own words and plans to invade Gotham to take Damian as hostage and Tim to become his apprentice.

The batfamily goes on high alert especially since Talia herself is there with her assassins trying to help them. But unfortunately, they underestimate how determine Ra's is. Talia nor the batfamily don't expect that Ra's would be crazy enough to bring his whole faction to invade Gotham.

Tim and Damian are not having a good time. Let it be known that normally, they can easily take down anyone they want to if they work together. Unfortunately, their opponent today is Ra's Al-Ghul himself. If Batman, Cass or even Dick is here, they would easily be able to hold their own against him. But Tim's expertise is detective work while Damian is still young and are at a disadvantage in terms of physical strength and experience.

Everyone is fighting to get backup to Tim but with the Supes out of this world and most other heroes busy with their own works, it is quite hard to deal with the assassins. That is until all the assassins are frozen on the ground. They don't know how or why but the assassins are now fully covered in ice with only their heads out.

A figure forms slowly in front of Ra's as his blade inches slowly towards Tim. A loud metal clanging sounded destroying the silence that has befallen the whole battlefield. In front of them is a man with black hair, blue eyes and very very tall. On his hand is a Khopesh that is directly parrying Ra's katana.

"Hello father."

The voice sends a chill into everyone who hears it. But for the Batkids, they know that voice. That is the same voice that is often heard whenever they try to communicate with Phantom. That means, the guy in front of them is Phantom.

"No no no. Impossible. I killed you by my own hand. There is no way you are here. An imposter. That's what you are."

Ra's says as everyone can feel the tremble and fear in his voice. And for the record the bats and Talia have heard Ra's voice being in fear before but this is different. This is the fear that you showed when you are in front of your natural predators. Your death.

"Indeed. It is a mistake for me to believe that you would love like I used to love you, father. And I loathe myself thinking about it. For the longest time revenge has been on my mind. But some people have helped me in letting go of the past. People who truly see me and treat me like family."

"How? How are you still alive? The Lazarus Pit swallows your body as a sacrifice."

"The Pit does no such thing. When you put me in there, you merely set me free. The Pit claims me as one of her own. And she takes pity on my life and decides to give me a better one. And for that I will be eternally grateful to her."

In a fit of madness, Ra's swings his sword towards Phantom. He doesn't want to hear any of it anymore. He needs to kill Phantom now. Before he-

A kick sends him flying across the rooftop towards the other side. Ra's roll on the ground growling in pain. That kick specifically aims to give me the most pain without damaging his body in the slightest. A feat that can easily be done by a very skilled martial artist.

Phantom picks up Tim and Damian that is still on the ground. With Damian fully unconscious and Tim barely conscious, Phantom sends them to the ground using what the other thought to be some form of telekinesis. They slowly pick Tim and Damian and after making sure Tim and Damian aren't in imminent danger, they try to make contact with Phantom, when a dome of ice erected from the ground surrounding both Phantom and Ra's.

Phantom holds his sword in by his side and slowly walks towards Ra's.

"My name is Danyal Al-Ghul. The first son of Ra's Al-Ghul. Today, I am here to formally challenge Ra's Al-Ghul to a death match on account of the continuation of the unsolved battle 500 years ago. All the members of the league are to be witnesses of this battle."

That sentence sends dread to everyone present. Talia knows of this tradition. A tradition that is used by her father to take down any opposition to his rule. That's why she has never confronted his father head on. She is not confident that she can win against him.

Ra's knows that he can't hide any longer. Last time he wins is barely because of an ambush and Danyal was poisoned. He would have never won otherwise.

Usually, Ra's prided himself in being a warrior. Who will dare to look death in the eyes to challenge it to battle. But people that are close to him knows that he is a coward. A coward that is so scared of death, who will do anything to run against it. But now, he can no longer run. Death has finally made his way towards his doorstep. Death in the form of his first son. The very son who he killed because of a prophecy he heard from a seer.

'You shall die a worthless death. At the hand of your greatest creation. He will be your end. The one who will put out your flames of life. Your first son.'

He has been enraged when the seer says that. He killed the old woman and even prepared a plan to kill his own son. The son that trusted him. He first sends him on a big mission where he knew Danyal would never fail. Then he makes a grand celebration when he returns. That's when he poisoned him, reducing his strength to barely a tenth of his full strength.

Even then, Danyal had put up a tough fight. Claiming Ra's hand while fighting him. He thought that he succeeded when life left his son's body. But he is greedy. He tries to awaken him again to make him into his perfect warrior. But the Lazarus Pit swallows him. Leaving no trace behind.

For the longest time, Ra's hid the existence of this son. He is his greatest creation. He is also his greatest shame.

Danyal walks slowly towards Ra's. The others are trying to crack open his ice dome but unless he wills it, even the sun can't melt his ice. Ra's is kneeling right there. Seemingly given up any chance of retaliation. Both of them knew that Danyal is the superior one between the two. Either intellect or strength. Danyal has and will always be better.

Putting the sword on his neck, Danyal asks him. "Any last words father?"

Ra's looks at him with an empty eyes that suddenly gains light as he thrust his katana straight into Danyal's chest. Ra's is about to laugh in victory as he thinks he has outsmarted his son again but then he realizes that his son is still standing there with his sword on his neck.

"Goodbye father." And with that, Ra's head flies into the sky and falls on the floor. Danyal can hear the screaming and shouting from the outside but he doesn't care. He has done it. His long forgotten revenge. His blood feud.

He looks at his father's corpse and burns it to ashes. He has made sure that the old man's soul has completely dispersed after the soul of people he kills unjustly has taken him apart one by one. What a gruesome death. Appropriate for such a vile human.

Danyal looks at people he can consider friends. He could see worry and Nightwing's and Spoiler's eyes, respect in Red Hood mannerism and confusion in Black Bat's body language. He has made sure no one sees Ra's body when he kills him since he knows some of them can read body language too well.

Looking at Talia, his sister, Danyal gives a nod, disperse the ice and disappears. Talia later takes control of all the assassins and they return back to their base after a quick talk with Batman. They heard the conversation from inside the dome. So they knew a little about what was happening.

After that night, Phantom completely disappears without any trace whatsoever.

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #Ra's is Danny's dad

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ilium-ilia · 5 days ago

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ichor tongue; salted wounds

simon ghost riley x fem!reader | warlord x servant | masterlist

Chapter Two: mouse

tw: non-con groping, dub-con, nudity, bathing, mouth kink, minor spit play

You stare at your palms the entire way to the bath house.

Indentations still plague your skin, nettling deep into the thick tissue where it saves the memory of the brush you clutched in your hands. Sturdy wood and bristles thick enough to shed long rotting skin. You attempt to recall the last time someone had ever got your hands to curl, either out of indignation or panic, yet nothing comes to mind; not much phases you these days.

Ghost is sure to change this, you think. The tips of his toes nip at your heels as you lead him through the palace, and you’re certain you feel his breath huffing on the back of your neck. He looms. Lowering clouds kissing the horizon, promising a flood, promising lightning and destruction. You’d feel the wrath of the sky if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s already fallen upon your city. You see it in the changing of banners in the corridors; pristine white and silver cloth like wispy clouds are now replaced with red and gold, and an unfamiliar crest—the symbol of barbarians, of your new leaders. The storm has come and passed, and you’re wading through the aftermath. Through the lingering destruction that lies at your feet.

There is a detached bath house that lies away from the palace, past the garden and just before a steep trail that leads down to a placid cove. The building winks in your periphery as it stands outside the windows while your feet carry you further down the corridor. It is one that’s saved for servants and soldiers. Anyone expendable. Anyone deemed not important. Communal, and with a single pool, it’s a great source of socialization where people sit among the curved stone, lathering each other’s backs, or diving into the depths of the water.

It is a place free from prying eyes. Free from judgement of the superiors, of the aristocrats, of the kings one step below the gods themselves.

Once, you attempted to use the same water as the others when rain had punished your city for a near week straight. Voices echoing off of the stone walls, wet skin glistening in the shrouded sunlight, they all fell silent the moment you entered. They questioned what you were doing there knowing full well you could not answer, only point in the water that they shared with one another, but refused to share with you.

I’d rather share water with a pig.

Caenis. That was the name of the servant who spat at you, sneering at the way your feet uncomfortably tapped at the marble floor knowing there was nothing you could do to spit back. No one has ever been kind to you since you lost your tongue and your parents, but no one has been quite as cruel as her. Pristine skin left unmarred, laying with soldiers to get favors, living as an underground princess beneath Emperor Shepherd’s very nose, she always gets her way.

But you do not take Ghost to the same place the servants bathe—to the very place where you were made a fool of—instead, you bring your new lord to the same chambers Emperor Shepherd used when he still drew breath. Private. Quiet. Held with the decorum expected to be given to a ruler.

It is a small room adorned with stone nestled far back in the palace, well away from foot traffic and echoing conversations. A round hole cuts deep into the floor with stairs to lead to the bottom, and a lipped ridge to sit on. It reaches deep enough to kiss your hips, and is wide enough for you to stretch your arms, but not much more. Private. Not meant for sharing. A hand lever pump that joins directly to the aquifer stands towards the back of the room, waiting to fill the carved tub to the brim. Grandiose, this bath is one of the single greatest wastes of drinking water, second only to the ever flowing fountains that peasants sneak sips out of when soldiers aren’t looking.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost murmurs. Stepping around you, he marches to the side of the tub, curiously eyeing the craftsmanship. Engraved in the stone are various creatures of the sea. Clams, gulls, schools of fish and animals from ancient stories—krakens, ship eating squids, merpeople luring unsuspecting men to shore. “All this artistry for a man who starved his people.”

Now, it’ll be wasted on you. A wretched and unkind way to think, but it springs to mind. The blood that taints his skin. The scrapes on his arms. How many civilians did he cut down for this one spoil? For a bath soiled by another wretched man?

Ghost looks to you as if expecting an answer, but you instead direct him to a wooden table against the wall behind him that holds all of Emperor Shepherd’s old oils and soaps. There are countless ones with various scents, consistencies, and medicinal effects crafted by the best artisans. He only scoffs at them.

“Need me clean and smellin’ like a pansy?” he grumbles.

Still, he offers you reprieve in distracting himself as you work on filling the tub. Ensuring that the metal plug is in place, you begin to pump water from the spigot, allowing it to gush and wet the stone at your feet. You are grateful it is not designed like a regular pump. It flows long after you’ve stopped working it, water still gushing from the pressure, spilling and babbling as if it were a waterfall. What should take you hundreds of pumps only takes you fifty before it’s full enough to bathe in.

Not bothering to wait for your direction, Ghost removes his chiton with a stiff grunt while his shoulders pop. Now that you no longer look at him in terror, you take note of all the wounds he’s gathered from the battle. There’s nothing of importance. Nothing that would take his life now or later when the wound goes bad and rotten. He shamelessly struts before you, flaccid cock swinging between his legs, broad shoulders swaying and knees groaning as he steps into the water, hissing at the way the frigidness kisses his skin, smoothing over each injury.

When you realize he hasn’t pointed out a preferred soap, you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe out your frustration before approaching the table yourself. Lavender. Lemongrass. Mint. Yes, mint will do. You grab the bar before you kneel at the ledge of the pool just next to Ghost, hands dipping in the water and lathering it as best as you can.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to clean me from there,” Ghost deadpans. Pausing, you turn your attention to him. His elbows are on the ledge, head tilting to the side to look at you. “I’m a big boy.” As if to prove his point, he stretches his legs just as he rolls his hips. You try not to let the distorted image of his cock through the water distract you. “Gonna be hard to reach all of me if you’re sittin’ pretty by that ledge.”

You freeze. Prey caught in the sights of a predator. If he wanted to, Ghost could gralloch you right here with his bare hands—nails digging through your navel, splitting you open, turning his bathwater pink. You clutch the bar of soap so tightly it nearly slips from your hands, and you opt to hold it against your stomach instead.

“C’mon then,” he urges, not impatient but rather intrigued. “In the water, little bird.”

Knowing better than to deny a powerful man his whims, you stand to your feet and pitifully trudge to the stairs. Ghost watches you like a vulture licks its beak over carrion, waiting to peck and tear flesh—to devour something rotten and whole. But you are a defiant creature to an extent. With no tongue to sing with, you hold onto what little power you have left. You do not shed your chiton before descending the stairs, cotton turning wispy in the algid water, hugging your body tight and tangling around your shins as you wade towards your relaxed warlord. The cold has your nipples hardening through the cloth, but you pay them no attention as you keep your chin high and your lips tight.

He’s chuckling by the time you’re standing in front of him. Thick fingers tap against the stone at his back as he watches you wordlessly begin to wash him up. You start with his hands. His knuckles are split like grapes that are too ripe, but he doesn’t hiss at the sting. Meaty palms nearly devour your own hands, fingers and all, and you try not to pay too much attention to the way he seems to linger against you as you swipe the grime out from beneath his fingernails.

Tendons pull taught in his forearms once you begin moving up. There are countless scars to trace. Deep ones that deform his skin, to lighter, silvery ones. Your knees knock against the sitting stone as you lean forward, reaching further along him, body bending at your hips.

“D’ya always make things so difficult for yourself?” Ghost questions. Pausing, you look at his face for further explanation, brows nearly furrowing, but he seems to be waiting for something. On someone. For you. When you don’t respond, he sighs—then, he grabs. Hands slicing through the water, fingers digging into your hips, he pulls you towards him until your legs are spread wide around his thighs, rump resting in his lap. You gasp at the sudden movement, and a smirk pulls at his scarred lips. “Better?”

Mind still spinning from the sudden movement, you attempt to distract yourself with your task only to realize that the soap has slipped from your hands. It floats along the surface, half buoyant and ready to sink, drifting further from your reach. You point at it, finger trembling too viciously to truly follow, but Ghost grabs your face. Thumb and forefinger digging into your cheeks, he turns your head towards him before releasing you.

“I don’t care ‘bout the soap, little bird,” he says. His fingers drift from your face, down your neck, and to your collarbones. You pray to the gods that he cannot feel the way your heart thunders in your body. “Don’t care ‘bout the bath either. Just wanna hear you sing.”

Dipping between your breasts, his hands grab your chiton and then pull. Thread yanks apart, linen ripping down your sternum, bosom on full display as the remaining tatters slip down your arms. Another gasp from you has him humming with pride as you look down at yourself, hardened nipples dancing with each shuddering breath you exhale. No one has ever exposed you like this—so scandalously on display before your lord like a whore.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” Ghosts questions. His hands are on your chest now, palms cupping both your breasts, swallowing them whole with the ever growing cavern in his eyes until he drifts up to view your befuddled face. Despite the water, he’s warm. Too warm. Sweltering against your skin, the mixture of hot and cold threatens to undo you. “Or are you really expectin’ me to believe that a pretty thing like you would waltz into my room to serve me so willingly? Watched me conquer your city, now you want me to do the same to you, is that it? C’mon, pretty bird. Sing.”

Ghost pinches you where you are soft and tender. The ripening bud of your nipple screams as he squeezes it between his finger and thumb, and it’s as if the sky is angry. Billowing clouds. Cracks of thunder and lightning rippling throughout your body. Your mouth opens enough for a squeak just as your body jolts, and he relents. Pauses. Eyes darkening, head tilting—Ghost looks at you with a fading smile and pursing brows.

Then, he demands; “Open your mouth.”

The softest part of you. Ripe flesh around a peach pit. Teeth like brittle sand dollars waiting to crumble. You obey. You always do.

Lips parting just enough to open, Ghost hooks his thumb into your mouth without warning where he finds purchase behind your bottom teeth, then pulls. Jaw wide open, you stare at him as he peers into your mouth, and you note when he sees it. You. How you were marred beyond recognition. Humming, his thumb dips lower into the space that would harbor the soft tissue beneath your tongue if it were still here. A phantom tells you that you feel it; him. Prodding beneath the wet muscle. A bitter memory of what you once had.

“I see.” He fits two fingers into your mouth and rides them along the ridges of your teeth. You feel him count each one. He presses against the edge. Each point. Enough for your jaw to ache. Nearly enough to draw blood. “You’re no bird. You’re a little mouse, yeah?”

Soft palate now. Dragging forward. Hard palate. Incisors. Then, cheek. Hook and drag, saliva gathering on the tips of his fingers, running over the smooth skin and the indentations left from your teeth.

“I’d ask who did this, but I have a feelin’ I already know. It was that bastard Shepherd, yeah?” Ghost questions with a hum. With his fingers still in your mouth, you nod. “Dirty cunt. This isn’t fresh either.”

He pushes further towards the back of your throat where the mangled remnants of your tongue lie. A branch cut too short on a tree, too much scar tissue and no reach. The nub pushes against the back of your throat as you swallow, skin melting beneath Ghost’s gaze.

This is the most bare you’ve ever been in front of someone. Breasts spilling from ripped cotton, mouth open, lips wrapping around a stranger’s fingers as he pokes and prods at your greatest source of shame—of the hellfire and scorn wrought upon you that still lingers as embers and the smouldering remains of your past.

Eventually, Ghost retrieves his fingers from your mouth, pulling them out slow and steady, prodding at your front teeth before his own lips part. Then, they’re in his mouth. Tongue lapping at your saliva, humming content at the flavor you can no longer taste—a sapor long forgotten. A shaky exhale fans across his face as you watch his eyes dilate. He has kind eyes, you think. A stark difference from the ruggedness strewn across his body, scars like mountains, bruises like valleys. They are soft. Warm like the rocks you sunbathe on after cleaning yourself with the brine of the ocean. Warm like the heated iron used to cauterize your tongue.

“This city was bequeathed to me,” Ghost says, fingers popping free from his mouth before placing his hands on your hips. His thumbs wander. Rubbing, repetitive and soft against your waist, sending water singing around your bodies. “Everythin’ here belongs to me. Includin’ you.”

Perhaps in another life his words would make your stomach churn, but the prospect of being owned by yet another ruler does not phase you. It’s something you require, now. Someone to take care of. Someone to serve. His words prompt you to nod, but his fingers squeeze against you and you freeze—a rabbit ensnared, a doe catching scent on the wind, a little girl kneeling before a man playing god.

“But unlike Shepherd, I take care of my things. I don’t go destroyin’ things that could be easily fixed or corrected. And you—” Ghost pulls you closer, body dragging across his lap and chiton bleeding around you in the bath, forcing your hands to brace against his shoulders to steady yourself as water sloshes around you “—might just be my favorite possession yet.”

For the first time you can recall, something besides fear or contempt swells in your chest. It is not pride, nor flattery, but something deeper. A beast with its maw opened wide, waiting to swallow something—but what? You? Unsure of what to do—here, in your city’s usurper's lap—you nod. You cannot name if it’s because you are saying you understand him, or if you’re agreeing with him.

You tell yourself it’s the latter, but each beat of your heart strangely sounds like yes please, let me be something, anything more than this, something of importance, let me be useful, please let me mean something.

Either way, Ghost chuckles before he taps your hips, legs stretching out behind you. The added buoyancy of the water allows him to move you easier, weightlessness taking over your body as if you’re caught in some sort of dream.

“C’mon, little mouse,” he prompts. “No prized possession of mine will walk ‘round wearin’ rags like these. I like to rip through somethin’ of substance before I eat.”

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*full story is currently up for early access, updates will be posted every sunday night (may be a different day depending on time zones)

#ilium writing #sr ilia #it;sw #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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caxde · 25 days ago

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truly | eddie munson x reader

summary you and eddie are best friends, oblivous to each others' feelings until someone helps you realise (4.5k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! based on this ask!

You were a bit too deep inside your thoughts, as you often were. You hair was half up, hair loose on the front framed your face in a way that made you seem even more concentrated than you actually were. Your left hand was lost on the back of your neck, messaging that spot in a repetitive manner that soothes you. Your right hand was scribbling down the frame ideas for the essay that was due in a couple days.

Eddie noticed as soon as he entered the dining hall. You had used your free period to set yourself into a quiet corner, bathed by the weak sunlight of the late morning. He knew you had barely moved from your spot, the crease on your blue jeans that always formed if you stopped moving had been there for a while. He smiled shyly to himself before asking the lunch lady that was setting up everything if she could give him some water for you, he knew she’d say yes since it was for you. The kindness that you always showed her was something Eddie usually used to his advantage. A lot of snacks that he promised were for you were usually for him. A red apple if he was bored, whatever soda she’d give if he was still craving something sweet and whatever wrapped up candy bar she had left when he needed a bargain chip for something else.

This time, the lunch lady smiled to herself as soon as she saw how he approached you. Slowly, trying his hardest not to disturb you. His right hand replaced your left, messaging that same spot you had been mindlessly rubbing for over an hour. Your eyes met in that same moment, when the bottled water hitted the table. The soft warm light framed the encounter, a perfect photograph.

Eddie’s wild curly hair seemed longer when he was standing over you, and you enjoyed how it bounced once he sat down and shook his head.

He didn’t say anything, there really was no need.

He grabbed your notebook and eyed your scribbling right before trying to hide his chuckling. You playfully punched him in the arm, while you took the first sip of water in god knows how long. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were until the water touched your lips.

Half of the bottle was now empty.

Eddie glanced at it before letting his lips curl, just as you pushed your hair behind your ear.

“I thought you had already finished Mrs.White essay” He finally said, leaving the notebook right where it was, his body shifting so his legs were in between the bench, looking directly at you.

“I did.” You pointed out, looking back at his brown eyes, the sun hitting them always makes them seem brighter, like melted chocolate you thought. “This one’s yours.” You shook your head, pushing the notebook into him.

“How…Why would you…” He didn’t really know how to formulate the question, a bit too dumbfounded to even process the information you were giving to him.

“You have Hellfire tonight.” You say, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “And you haven’t even started reading the book yet… so… Just copy it so it has your handwriting once I’m done, ‘kay?”

“You’re an Angel.” He says, astonished. He can feel his cheeks getting warmer for a second before he shakes his head, leaning closer to you so he can leave a small kiss on your cheek. Partially to say thank you, though deep down he knows he’s doing it so he can see you bite down the inside of your cheek, in an attempt to not blush as quickly as he had done.

“Yeah, you can pay me later.” You joke, returning his gesture with your knee bumping into his leg. “The water doesn’t count.” You say before he can, his index finger already pointing at it.

“Oh come on! You were about to die of dehydration.”

“Denise gave it to you!”

“I did, loverboy.” You can’t help but giggle as soon as you hear her interfere. But maybe it was because seeing Eddie flustered and rolling his eyes made your chest tighten in a way you were unfamiliar with.

“Loverboy?” Eddie questioned with his voice barely above a whisper, even you didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat, getting your attention once again. “You should clear the table.” He added in a hush tone, nodding to the opening doors of the dining hall. You smiled as you started to put your things away, tucked neatly into your beat-up backpack. Everything but Eddie’s half done essay was away. He left you scribbling away, while a hoard of hungry students invaded the previously quiet space.

Robin sat down next to you, with her usual soft “hi” right before she peered over your shoulder so she could see what you were writing. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the words you were writing.

“Eddie doesn’t know what perhaps means.” She points out teasing you with a smirk once you look right at her.

“He has to.” You argue, not really focusing on her teasing, not wanting to get into it. Not really wanting to understand what it means. “He has read The Hobbit like fifty times.”

“That’s why he keeps reading it.” She continues, unwrapping her homemade sandwich. The smell of melted cheese hits your nose, making your stomach rumble with hunger. “He doesn’t understand it.” You can’t help but laugh with her. That kind of laugh that makes your cheeks hurt after a while.

“What are you up to on Saturday?” You ask in your usual cheerful voice, trying desperately to change the topic of conversation away from the curly headed boy.

“I’m covering Steve’s turn at Family Video, so I guess I won’t leave until I close. Yey for double shifts.” She cheers in a monotone voice that makes the right side of your lips curl upwards.

“Yay for money?” You try to make her chuckle, with little success.

“I guess.” She plays a bit with the crust of her sandwich before she takes a bite out of it. “Why couldn’t my parents be made of money?”

“Hey, at least you have parents.” Eddie joins back at your table, closely followed by his little followers. You scoot so everyone barely fits.

“Are you feeding a whole town by yourself?” Robin snaps back, as her eyes widen at the size of Eddie’s overstuffed plates.

“Nah, just taking advantage of the American School System.” He chuckles as his little finger pushes the tray in your direction, in a subtle way, so you won’t notice.

Robin does notice however. And so does Dustin. They exchange a knowing look that you both don’t see. You’re way too deep into the way his mouth moves whenever he is explaining a nonsense story like he is now, his hair softly brushing his pale cheeks everytime he ends a sentence, and Eddie is too enamored by the way your eyes shine at him, as he feels how every word makes your lips curl upwards, drawing a big smile on your face.

You pick at his food, and he just smiles down at you whenever he catches you eating something. He knows you have a hard time remembering to feed yourself, even more so when you’re deep in concentration, once he saw you sitting alone being engulfed by various papers he knew you hadn’t eaten, and how you probably wouldn’t until you had finished or gotten home. He smiled back with his eyes half closed making those tiny lines appear next to his eyes, a type of smile you knew well. A please do anything you want, a please keep doing exactly what you are doing, a please never leave my side kind of smile.

“psst” Dustin whispered into Robin’s ear, hitting her arm with his elbow.

“What!?” She half whispered as she turned around quickly, her eyes almost out of her head, as she rubbed the spot where he hit her.

“What do we do?” He asks, nodding to the both of you. The angelical image you both formed looked straight out of a painting. The looks of admiration between the both of you were enough for anyone else to realise something was happening.

“We?”

“Yeah, they’re smart, but they’re also idiots.” Dustin overenunciated every word, as he usually does when he’s whispering. Robin rolled her eyes at the image of you, falling deep and without breaks, with you not even realising it.

“We could kidnap them.” She half jokes, talking to Dustin’s ear while her eyes were still fixated onto you. “Put them in nice clothes and chuck them into a restaurant.” She chuckled as she ended the sentence, her voice picking the paste as she got more excited about those nonsense ideas.

“Eddie doesn’t do restaurants. Says they’re an elitist nightmare fruit of capitalism or something like that. He does like dinners though.” Dustin points out in a monotone whisper, his head now turned to both of you.

“That’s your issue with what I said?”

“Pretty much.” Dustin answers nonchalantly. “We could just talk to them.”

“And tell them what, exactly?” Robin raises her eyebrow as she quickly glances at Dustin, right when you’re laughing at one of Eddie’s bad jokes.

“Just… I don’t know. That they’re stupid, and they obviously like each other.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t call them stupid.” Robin points out.

“Yeah, I know.” Dustin waits for a moment as he watches Eddie shake his head just so he can see you smile widen. “But they are, right?”

“Oh.” Robin waits as she watches you leaving your hand on the high part of his tight, squeezing it softly. Eddie’s eyes open a bit as they shine a bit more. “Absolutely they are.”

By the time you reached your car, your backpack still half opened with a notebook blocking the zipper’s way, Robin was already sitting on the hood of the red chipped paint. You smiled at her as you pushed the little button on your keys, hearing the loud noise it did as it unlocked, making the short haired girl jump as she laid her feet on the ground once more, opening the passenger door as she found her way in. You opened your door, passing her your backpack as you dove in, head first and turning the key on the same movement, knowing that the sooner you had your windows down, the better the heat that had accumulated from a long day would be handled.

Robin kicked her almost empty bag under her feet, as she tightly held onto the overly stuffed one that was hanging from your shoulders as she looked attentively at you. You playfully mistake that level of attention, guessing that she needed confirmation that you remembered that she was working that afternoon.

“Don’t worry.” You chirp as your hands start changing the car gear’s. “I’ll have you at Family Video in ten minutes.”

“What?” She mumbled as she was focused on the wrong thing once more.

“Are you not working today?” You answer back as you stop at a red light, looking at her for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed as she nods her head yes.

“Yeah, but what’re you doing?” She is speaking in that frenetic tone, the one she usually uses when she’s eager to make a point. So you decide to speak calmly, if only to bring some sense into the conversation.

“I’m heading to Edd’s, I finished his essay and he has Hellfire. He told me I could stay in his room so I can keep working on homework. So I’ll already be there for pizza night once you and Steve get there.”

“You do realise how that sounds right?” Her words were coated with honey, making you raise an eyebrow at her. She took your silence as a response and continued talking. “You’re practically dating.”

“Fuck off.” You warned. Cheeks burning red, your teeth biting the inside of them.

“Oh come on dude!” She pleaded now, punching your arm as you turned left. “You obviously like each other! You do his homework, always try to be near him, laugh at every single one of his stupid jokes, you let him take care of you and you look at him as if he's the answer you can’t find in your books.”

She runs out of breath by the end, looking at you, needing you to realise what everyone already has, but you just stay the same. A vacant stare through the windshield as the car slowly stops.

“Robs…” There’s a sliver of pain in your voice. “As much as I’d like that to be true, it can’t be.” You shake your head as you take your backpack so she can leave the car.

“It is true though…”

“Maybe.” You add with a shy smile. “But I can’t have that in my head now.” You add, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You want it to be true?” Robin asks with hopefulness clear in her voice, her eyes gleaming at the possibility.

“Yes.” You admit not only to your friend, but to yourself.

Meanwhile, Dustin had a very similar approach. He had followed Eddie closely to his van, screaming for him to wait, and reminding him that he promised a ride to his house, since Gareth would drive him back. Eddie agreed, with a snarl as he opened the passenger door. The van was old, and it needed a stronger approach for it to actually open and close, the windows never closed all the way and a vague smell of weed always emanated from the back.

“Who’s coming to today’s session?” Dustin questions with a very openly hidden intention.

“Uh, Mike, Gareth, Lucas, Jeff, Erica I think and uh… Angel.” He added your nickname last, with a soft grin appearing in his face as soon as it leaves his lips.

“She’s playing?”

“No, no. She’ll just hang out in my room, we’ve got pizza night with Robs and Steve”

“Your room?”

“Yeah” Eddie brushes it off, as if it is no big deal, as if it meant nothing. Dustin was staring with daggers in his eyes.

“Dude…”

“What?”

“Oh. Come. On.” Dustin overly enunciates every word, his eyes opening wider with every syllable. “Did you ask her to? You know what, it actually doesn’t matter, you’re way too thick to even get it. You like like this girl. You make her laugh with every idiotic thing that leaves your mouth, she does everything in her power to help you and you always make time and an effort to be close to her, come on Edward!” Eddie stops the car suddenly, the use of his government name takes him by surprise, even more so than the overly explanation to his unthought actions regarding you and his -apparently- very obvious feelings.

“You didn’t have to call me Edward.” He tries deeply to change the topic, a bit too embarrassed to actually talk it out.

“Dude.”

“Yeah, I know.” He apologises in a defeated tone. “Is it really that obvious?” Dustin nods as they look at each other, the van slowly starting again. “You really think she feels the same?” Dustin nods again. “Fuck.”

It had been weird.

For both of you.

Dustin didn’t stop laughing, even if he did try to not make it obvious.

The way he opened the door didn’t follow his usual routine. He didn’t tease you, he didn’t mess with your hair or make fun of you for obsessively positioning your shoes by the entrance.

Instead, his voice shook a bit when he opened the door, the sound of your name in a raspy whisper you never had heard from him before. Instead a small conversation with a pleasant tone erupted, a very mechanical “hi” “hi” “you can wait in my room, shout if you need anything” before he sprinted off, his face red.

You were left by yourself, inside his messily organized room. All of his black thick cords were neatly and carefully wrapped, yet left on a corner of his room right by his dresser. You also noted the half empty ashtrays on his table, the one he wanted you to use, and the faint smell they left. The array of magazines stacked by the foot of his bed, ranging from cars and mechanical magazines, gracing through music and a half hidden obscene one. He had various photos, drawings, drabbles and lyrics written on different pieces of paper glued to his walls. Corroded Coffin’s flyers, photos he had taken up on the lake, him smiling while he posed with the band, him concentrated in the middle of a D&D session. Right by his bed, there was a sunny day one. You remember that day, it was last summer, and you decided to walk through the woods in search of a cool spot, somewhere that would only be known by the both of you. You found that little pond, and you stayed there for hours, looking at the small frogs, collecting flowers for your room and singing songs he was obsessed with. You sketched a bit while he took a picture of you, peaceful, perfect, undisturbed you. You felt yourself smiling when you realised he had the drawing right next to it, a small heart had been added with black ink.

You tried to concentrate on the remaining homework you had left, but you kept getting distracted, your eyes subconsciously landing on that photograph.

With Robin’s words still ringing in your ear, you still didn’t know what to do, or what to feel.

Eddie’s weirdness hadn’t helped.

You usually spoke to him when you needed help to understand yourself, he usually did that better than you anyway. You started to realise how much of that was true, he always seems to know exactly how to calm you down when you have a million things going over your head at the same time, even the times you're not conscious about it, he does it. And it is quite simple. It's just a touch. The coldness of his rings finds your skin, leg, arm, neck; it doesn't matter. His hand lays on top of your skin and his fingers just hold you, a bit firm, right before moving softly. That is all it takes. You’re grounded again, and you know you’re safe, because he is there. And if Eddie is there, and if he is that close to you, nothing can be wrong.

This feeling stays with you now.

nothing can be wrong

You’re in his bedroom, because it’s full of him, every single thing he owns and loves is inside, and it smells of him. The freshly burned sandalwood that impregnates every piece of clothing he owns, in a desperate attempt to hide the cigarette smoke that you’ve grown to love. Candles have been blown out right before you came, the rim of them still burned. You can feel his panic, he must’ve gone through the room whilst Dustin was right behind him, and if you know something about that, Dustin must have been giving him the exact same speech Robin did to you.

The carefulness that he had put out in making sure you were comfortable, because he is well aware of how much you despise being on such a big house by yourself, and the hard time you have concentrating and remembering to take care of yourself was clear now. He keeps inviting you to hang out, he keeps asking you to come over and there’s always food and drinks out for you, all so you don’t have to think about it. Because he cares.

he cares.

Nothing can be wrong, he cares.

You are starting to wonder if that caring is the same kind of care you feel for him.

You can’t really remember a time you haven’t known him. You can’t imagine your life without him if you’re being honest. That scrawny young boy with a buzzed head that was starting to learn how to play guitar had grown right beside you. You remember after school hours where you taught him how to play the guitar, and how he now tries to get you to play with him, even if he knows you’ll say no since you’ve got a new project or a new essay that needs a few tweaks. Wade will tease him, telling him how he needs to be more like you, but you’ve always dismissed it.

You like being there for him, you like it when he asks for help with a paper he doesn’t quite have the energy to finish, you like it when he needs help with the final details of his campaign, you like it when he asks for your opinions in his lyrics because “I trust your mind more than I do mine”, you like it when he asks you to cut your hair with a big dumb smile in his lips… His lips, you think I also like his lips.

Without really thinking, you abandon the homework, letting your body crumble into his mattress. The smell of his shampoo is intoxicating. You had made fun of him when you saw “amarath and jasmine shampoo” in his shower, but he had said that “those curls are expensive, darling” you giggled at the memory. Your eyes closed remembering the smile he had on his lips while he teased you back. his lips.

You can’t seem to focus on anything else. They always looked pinker in real life than in your memories, not cracked but smooth. Everytime they said your name, some part of your skin bloomed with goosebumps, your heart skipped a bit, just to relax right after. They had the warmest smile and sang the most angelical laugh you had ever heard. Speaking of song, his voice when he had a mic in front of them was truly out of this world.

It has to be true, you think at this moment this has to be what love feels like.

You could feel your cheeks burning at the thought of it. That vulnerability was a different kind to the one you were used to share with him.

It scares the fuck out of you.

And yet, a sense of relief invades you.

You feel like you need to tell him, you’ve always shared your secrets with him, what’s one more?

Not now, you think, Hellfire’s still running.

Your hand flings above your head, you want to scratch your own head, wanting to sooth yourself, instead, you find your fingers hitting the cold surface of his old acoustic guitar.

The once light brown wood surface was not badly painted with black acrylic paint, and a faded sentence you could no longer read in chipped white paint. You smile at yourself, picking it up instead.

You’re not really thinking, if you were you wouldn’t have started playing meaningless chords.

You’re thankful you’re not thinking.

You had forgotten how easily it calms you down, your fingers playing with the strings, whilst your brain thinks about playing with his tangled hair.

It’s easy. It’s like breathing.

You don’t really know how long it’s been. You just know you’ve started to play guitar and nothing else matters, you’re in love with him and nothing else matters.

Eddie knows something has changed as soon as he reaches his door.

You usually studied in silence, murmuring to yourself, repeating your notes aloud. As soon as he hears the soft strummings of his out of tune guitar he knows something has changed.

He is hopeful that maybe you have realised what he had earlier.

While he was cleaning his room with Dustin beside him, he was just telling him obsessively why you are such a great person, and why he’s so afraid to lose you to something so stupid like love. He had said that you are not only a good friend to him, but to everyone, you're empathetic and unbelievably kind, you make him feel like a warm shower after rain had left him drenched, you were the most beautiful soul he knew, inside and out. And it scared him shitless that you might not feel the same.

But now, as he carefully opened his bedroom door, he could see you were smiling as you graced the strings, soft and calm notes escaping from the old guitar. Your perfume was mixed in the air, and he felt that flutter in his stomach.

He walked slowly, not wanting to interrupt.

You smiled as soon as you felt his eyes on you.

His hand laid on your thigh. That touch. That nothing can be wrong touch.

“You’re playing guitar.” He whispers, his breath brushing your cheek. You look back at him, your fingers still messing with the strings. You lock eyes, his pupils expand as soon as you look at him. You feel as if your heart was about to explode, wanting to communicate too many feelings at the same moment.

“I taught you how” You whisper back. Stoping the notes so he could hear your voice, clearer.

“Don’t stop.” He pleaded, his tone sounding more like a whimper. “I haven't heard you in years”

“Eddie.” You feel the shakiness in your voice, and so must he, as he tightens the grip on your thigh. “I…”

“What?”

“I think I may be in love with you.” It just slips out. So naturally, so casually. As if you’ve said it a million times before. As if it is no big deal.

“What?” He asks again, his eyes widening, his heart beating faster. He can’t quite believe your words. Even if they are now forever engraved into his brain.

You let go of his guitar, your fingers now playing with his hair, which is all they want to do.

You find that one of your hands has found the back of his neck, and it pushes his lips against yours.

They feel even better than you have imagined. And it’s natural, it’s as easy as breathing, as carefree as a bird flying. It is what it should be.

His lips pressed against yours fit like the perfect puzzle they are, and his free hand is now under your chin, holding you closer so he can taste as much of you as he can.

It feels like heaven.

It’s a confirmation.

It a I’m in love with you, and the response I am too.

You don’t really need anything else, so you stay exactly like that for a long time, enjoying each other with no rush, with a calmness and a stillness that is unbecoming of both of you, who always seem to be in a rush.

“I feel safe with you, and I always want to be next to you. Nothing else matters.” You whisper once you break the kiss, your eyes closed as you press your forehead against his.

“Nothing else matters.” He whispers back.

He can’t help but chuckle a bit, now that he gets to kiss you every time he wants to, now that he knows you feel exactly as he does.

Deeply, truly, madly in love with each other.

The smile on both of your faces and the knowing glances now have a different meaning, and it is obvious that something has changed, yet nothing hasn’t. There was love before, now it has just been declared.

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

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ailawritesfics · 1 month ago

Text

✎ cw: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, baby trapping, toxic relationship, physical and verbal abuse, slight misogyny, yandere themes, use of slut/whore/bitch/dolly/plaything, fem bodied reader (fem pronouns used), dabi replacing pills with vitamins, dacryphilia, sadist dabi, oral (m!receiving), deep throat, cockwarming, light voyeurism, choking, branding (dabi burns you), p in v, creampie, breeding kink, implied free use & threesome, overstim, hair pulling, somno, not beta read

✎ 5.4k words

✎ dont know why i wrote this, kinda self indulgent. i'm considering writing a part 2 with hawks

Dabi never knocked. Not on your door. Not once in the past year you've known him.

Not since you gave him a spare key to your apartment, unaware that he had already gone ahead and made a duplicate months before you ever thought about allowing him into your home.

The lock clicks and the door swings slowly. He steps inside like he always does, heavy boots thudding against the floor. The apartment smells faintly of your favorite perfume, the same one Dabi had chosen for you a while back. You continued using it since then, something he appreciated quietly through actions rather than words.

He expected to see you curled up on the couch, maybe listening to music with earbuds in or humming something soft and innocent. You did love listening to songs that evoked more emotions than body rhythm. Some days together were spent lounging on the couch as you introduce him to another artist you found while looking for new songs.

Though, instead of a warm welcome, and a sweet greeting he was used to, he was met with the full force of your palm, hitting hard against his cheek.

His head turns with the hit, black bangs sweeping across his eyes. For a moment, he doesn't move. He stays for a few seconds, cheek faintly red and he can vaguely taste a tangy metallic liquid from where his staples caught on his skin. The silence unnerved you, a feeling of dread pooling in your gut but you clench your fists in an attempt to stay composed.

Finally, Dabi slowly turns to look at you, expression unreadable but something flickers in his eyes for a brief moment.

“That's one way to greet me,” He says, voice flat and dry. A hand touches his cheek like it's more of an inconvenience than anything. “What’d I do this time?"

You blink, incredulous at his indifference. He’s looking at you the way someone might regard a sulking child.

Taking a breath to compose yourself, you finally confront him. “Did you replace my pills?”

His expression doesn’t change. He kicks the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot and shrugs off his jacket, draping it lazily over the back of the chair like this is just another evening. He doesn't even look at you as he makes his way towards the kitchen.

You follow him, entering the kitchen and finding him bent over the fridge, searching for something. The nonchalance frustrates you, how could he act so calmly when you were absolutely fuming. He didn't even so much as blink at the accusation you threw his way. Granted, he wasn't one to react about most things but this was a serious matter and you had hoped he wouldn't just brush it off.

“So what?” He finally spares you a glance, glass in hand as he pours from a jug of ice cold water.

You stare at him, stunned.

“So what..? So what?!” You repeat, voice cracking. “That's all you have to say? You lied to me, Dabi! You violated my trust! Do you even get how fucked up that is?!”

You lunged the bottle of pills at him, hitting him square in the chest. It falls hard on the floor, lid tipping and spilling its contents over the tiles. “You replaced my pills with vitamins. Did you seriously think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't taste the fucking difference?!”

Dabi regards you with indignation, nearly rolling his eyes at what he perceives as another one of your tantrums all because he didn't tell you a decision he saw as a necessary call. It was for your sake, how stupid are you to not see that simple fact?

“What if I had gotten pregnant?!”

“Then you’d be pregnant,” He replies smoothly, almost like a threat as he drinks the water he poured earlier. “Or you wouldn’t be. Either way, you’re staying.”

You brows furrow at his words, taking an instinctive step back. “What?”

Hands finally free, he wipes the condensation on his pants before properly facing you.

He tilts his head as if you're the one not making sense, “Did you think I wouldn't notice you were planning on leaving?”

The room shifts, a weight suddenly pressing down on your shoulders as your throat tightens. How did he know? You made sure to be discreet about it. And even though you did plan on leaving and moving someplace else to get away from him, it wasn't like that was your final plan. Even if Dabi could be cruel, mean, manipulative, and emotionally unavailable at times, you still loved him. So you wanted to give him one last chance before disappearing.

But you didn't think he'd catch on this quickly.

“I saw your suitcase last week,” Dabi continues, voice dropping lower. “Half-packed. Real subtle, by the way. You’d wait until I was gone and stuff things under your bed. Real cute.”

You stand your ground, trying to keep the trembling at bay lest you want him gaining the upper hand and letting him believe he has control over you.

He does. He knows. But to him it was more fun to let you think you have a choice.

He lets the silence stretch for a minute before finally taking a step closer. “The only reason I let you keep taking those contraceptives this long,” He bends slightly, hands braced on your shoulders, locking you in place. “..was because I didn’t want you running away. Less of a hassle if you're willingly staying.”

He's so close. Close enough for you to smell the scent of nicotine in his breath, causing you to scrunch your nose and look away.

“But if you wanna act like a brat?” His voice lowers, one hand gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Then I’ll keep you chained somewhere else.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” You snap at him, leveling him with a glare holding so much malice he's surprised you hadn't looked at him that way before. “You think I’ll just roll over and let you control me?”

“No,” He chuckled in response, finding your bite amusing. “I think you’ll fight. You’re good at that.”

He lifts the hand holding your chin, releasing you from his hold, not to strike you, but to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. What was meant to be an endearing gesture felt more like a threat and a reminder than an act of affection. He feels the tension in your body and he can't help but find it adorable.

“That’s what I like about you.” He praises in a softer voice, hooded eyes staring into yours, laced with something dark and possessive.

“You don’t like me,” You scoff, words sharp and shaking. “You like owning me, asshole.”

“The mouth on you when you're angry.” He tuts, clicking his tongue as though he's scolding a kid, a condescending sound that only fuels your fury. “A lady shouldn't talk like that.”

You swat his hands away, steeling your resolve before taking a step back to make some distance. Dabi stands there, amused as if waiting to see what you'd do next.

“Get out.”

He raised a brow at that, arms folded across his chest, looking down at you, challenging and unbothered. Daring you to say it again.

So you do.

With the last of your courage, you tell him to get the fuck out.

The silence that follows is thick, long enough to sting with hope that he might listen. But Dabi never listened, not unless he wanted to.

When he unfolded his arms, you thought he might relent and finally leave but just then, his hand connected with your cheek. A sharp, brutal slap. The sound echoes through the apartment, and the force sends you stumbling, hitting the floor before you can fully process what happened. Your vision spins, nausea overcoming your senses as bile rises in the back of your throat. He returned your slap from before with one of his own, though he had struck you harder.

Tears welled up in your eyes instantly, not just from the pain, but from the shock, the betrayal and the sharp confirmation of everything you feared. The metallic tang of blood pools in your mouth. You spit it out, red streaks staining the floor beneath you as your body shook. From fear or anger, you couldn't tell anymore.

Dabi crouches beside you. “I told you,” he says coldly, fingers sliding up the nape of your neck and threading through your hair. “A lady shouldn’t talk like that.”

He jerks your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his, and a cruel smirk greets you. “Who taught you to talk like a whore?” he sneers, voice laced in mockery. “Was it Ayato? Or maybe that friend of yours from work? Don't think I don't know how you sneak around, frolicking with other men like a damn slut.”

His grip in your hair tightens, earning a sharp cry from you and a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “Actin’ like a bitch in heat. Be grateful I still want you.”

The sting lingers even after he lets go, a throbbing ache in your scalp. He smooths his hand down your hair, untangling strands as he goes before patting you on the head as if he hadn't just threatened and physically hurt you seconds prior. The gesture felt more like a taunt, mockery hidden beneath his fickle mood.

Dabi stands up and makes his way towards the worn couch, floorboards creaking under heavy boots. The cushions shift under his weight, clothes shuffling and you hear the distinct sound of a belt buckle being undone, a feeling of dread washing over you at what's to come. The silence only made it worse, his grunt and lazy call of your name made it all the more deafening when his eyes landed on you. Waiting.

Your cheek is swollen, red and bruising from the force of his hand. Dabi liked getting physical in bed, manhandling, some choking, and pinning you against the mattress but he had never struck you outside the bedroom before. The fact that he's expecting you to please him right after is a blow to your dignity, your pride. The ego he had been consistently stepping on and you just failed to notice until now.

He watches you, a predatory gaze leaving you feeling helpless. How could you forget?

He's a villain.

Against your better judgement, despite the last shred of your self-respect screaming at you to bolt, make a run for it, you stayed. Not that Dabi would’ve let you get far, anyway. If anything, he’d relish the chase, letting you think you had a head start just to hunt you down like a game. A twisted, thrilling game of cat and mouse.

So you obey his silent command. Like a moth to a flame, an ant seduced by the promise of sweetness. Just a pitiful little thing, clinging to the hope of mercy where there’s none.

You settle between his spread legs, fists clenched in your lap as you finally tilt your head to look at him. His grin is unsettling, the look of a man who had finally gotten what he wanted, like a reward well earned. The look of a man who’s waited, hunted, and now, finally, has exactly what he wanted.

“I like you better on your knees. You look prettier like this.” He reaches out to pat you again, sliding his hand to the back of your head, guiding you forward with deliberate pressure. "Go on. Unless you'd rather have both cheeks swollen to match."

You make quick work of his boxers, he’d already stripped off everything else in the way after all. You swallow thickly, throat dry with anticipation and nerves, his cock standing proud as you pull down his boxers. The familiar glint of his prince Albert and Jacob's ladder piercings catching the light, no less intimidating now than the first time you saw them.

You’re no stranger to intimacy with Dabi, not in the physical sense. You’ve seen and felt his cock before, known the weight of his body against yours with barely an inch to spare. And yet, for all the closeness, there’s always been a chilling absence of true intimacy. Just heat without warmth. And you doubt you'd ever be given the chance to experience it after tonight.

You shift closer, hands trembling slightly as you wrap them around the base, feeling the cool press of metal against your palm. He hisses through his teeth, a sound low and satisfied, as if your hesitation only adds to his pleasure.

You steady yourself, leaning in, lips parting as you take him into your mouth slowly at first, cautious, adjusting to the piercings you’ve long since grown familiar with but never fully comfortable around. The weight of him, the sharp glint of metal, the heat, it all hits at once, and still, you keep going. You let him fill your mouth, inch by inch, until your eyes water and your pride crumbles.

“Fuck… that's it, doll.” He breathes, exhaling when the tip finally hits the back of your throat. You feel the way your body tightens instinctively, throat constricting around him, and he groans, hand tightening in your hair. “Knew you'd come around. You always do.”

He rests heavy on your tongue, and you prepare yourself to move but he holds your head in place, forcing you to deep throat and cockwarm him with your mouth. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as the desperate need for oxygen claws at your throat.

“Stay still. Move and I'll burn my handprint on your ass.”

The threat freezes you in place, eyes closing in an attempt to distract yourself. Anything but look at him.

Satisfied for now, Dabi reaches into the pocket of his pants, fishing out his phone. The screen lights up with a tap, messages from Shigaraki he ignored on the daily greets him. And a few more just hours earlier. He scrolls past them with practiced indifference, searching for one contact in particular: Hawks.

The dial tone picks up. It rings thrice before a familiar voice cuts through the line, chiding him, half-annoyed and amused.

Dabi puts the call on speaker, Hawks’ voice echoing in the quiet apartment, silent except for the faint sound of your muffled choking.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Hawks said, his voice taut, barely audible over the blare of traffic and distant voices. “You’re not supposed to contact me like this unless it’s an emergency.”

Dabi’s low chuckle crackled through the line. “It is an emergency.”

The camera flipped on, shifting to frame you in its lens. His voice dropped, laced with something darker. “I’ve got a sweet little plaything here who could use some… expert guidance.”

A breathy fuck comes from the other line as Hawks sees the scene before him. You between Dabi’s legs, obediently keeping him warm. Your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, cheeks flushed from effort and heat, defiance still clearly written all over your face. And fuck if he didn't like putting sluts in their place.

Dabi’s fingers thread lazily through your hair, a smirk playing on his lips. “Told you it was urgent,” he murmurs, not looking at the camera. “My dolly is learning so well. Thought you might want a front-row seat.”

“I thought you don't like to share.” Hawks says, hesitation lacing his voice. His gaze lingers on the screen, feeling conflicted. “Last we spoke… you called her your girlfriend.”

Dabi shrugs casually, free hand coming up to caress your cheek, thumb brushing just below your eyes and catching a few stray tears. “Yeah, well. She forgot how to behave.” He brings his thumb to his lips, licking the salty tears. “We're having a refresher course.”

He reaches back down again, strokes your cheek almost gently, making you flinch. “She’s learning a lot. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Hawks stiffens on the other end of the line, his expression unreadable. “You call that love?”

“Funny question, coming from the guy who bails when shit gets messy.” Dabi deadpanned, exhaling in annoyance. “Just get your ass here while I'm still in the mood to share, birdbrain.”

The call ends unceremoniously, tossed against the couch cushions without care of where it'll land. Fingers threading through your hair, you're pulled back and off of him, leaving you in a sputtering, coughing mess with dried tear streaks on your cheeks and puffy eyes. Your throat burns, can vaguely taste him on your tongue as you desperately breathe in the oxygen you need.

His chuckle only adds insult to injury, amusement fueling the growing pit of anger mixed with fear in your gut. But acting up now would only earn you more than the painful slap from earlier, and you'd rather survive this with all your limbs intact.

“On all fours, princess. Now.” A hand on your forearm, he hauls you up onto the couch without much care. The shirt you're wearing is quickly pulled off and discarded.

With a hand behind your neck, he shoves your face into the cushions and pulls your ass up, forcing you to arc painfully in his hold. Scarred hands trail up your sides, sending shivers down your spine. You brace yourself, expecting selfish, brutal treatment, expecting him to bury his cock in you and chase his pleasure without caring for your own.

But instead, he plants his hands on your hips, firmly pressing into your flesh, hard enough to leave marks.

Then the heat begins. On your left side, low at first, then rising fast. It sears into your skin like an iron, the smell of burning flesh thick in the air.

“You thought I'd just fuck you, didn't you? Just bend you over and be done with it?” Dabi growls next to your ear, hands still burning his handprint on your skin.

A sob tears from your throat. Tears spilling freely, soaking into the cushions below. Your eyes squeeze shut, fingers digging into the throw pillow in a desperate search for something to hold onto. Breath hitching in broken sobs as the burn sears deeper, Dabi was branding more than just your skin.

“Cry all you want. You’re still going to take it.”

You're trembling, wracked with the sting of pain and the weight of helplessness under his mercy.

Then you feel it, his fingertip, searing hot much like the hand that branded you, dragging slowly against your skin as he carves a path down your back. The pain has you choking on your own gasps, breathless, but he still doesn't relent. Then you realize, he's tracing letters. His name on your body. A reminder, a permanent mark of him meant to remind you of who you belong to.

Eyes wide, you look over your shoulder, silently pleading, voice cracking through sobs. “Stop… please, Dabi… it hurts, I can't–”

“You can't?” Dabi only chuckles, low and mocking. His fingers slip down, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and grazing slick heat between your thighs. “That so? ‘cause I can feel you dripping down here, doll.”

He leans in close, his chest pressing on your back, breath hot against your ear. “Your mouth's saying no but your body's begging for it like a sweet little masochist. I'm starting to think you like pain.”

You shake your head, but the words won't come, only more tears, more shaking, as he drags his fingers back and forth, proof of your body's betrayal in every wet sound that follows.

“See?” he whispers. “You’re already ready for me.”

You're thrown on your back with a sharp gasp. In one fluid, ruthless motion, your shorts and panties are yanked down, stripped away and tossed aside the growing pile of your clothes alongside your shame and the last threads of your dignity.

You lay bare before him and he drinks it in, eyes raking down your body, predatory in its gaze, observing its prey.

He grips the underside of your thighs, fingers digging into soft flesh, and spreading you open. Any attempt to pry yourself away from his grasp is met with a squeeze and a warm sting from his quirk, a reminder and a threat.

The raw sting of his handprint and the letters scorched into your back flare with fresh agony as your body arches reflexively, a cry escaping before you can swallow it down. It burns. The way it grinds against the rough fabric of the cushions has tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

The man above you watches it all with delight, amusement glinting in his eyes. His gaze devours every twitch, tear, and broken sob like it’s a reward. He leans in close, weight pressing you deeper into the cushions, grinding the pain in further.

You try to push him away, trembling hands feebly pushing at his chest. “No more. Please.. Dabi, it hurts! M-my back,”

“It’s supposed to.” he says, indifferent to the pain you're suffering through. “You’ll remember it every time you move. See it every time you look in the mirror.”

He sits on his heels, stroking himself with a soft hiss. “Remember me whenever it stings. And maybe then,” You feel the tip of his cock right at your entrance, hovering as cerulean eyes stare into yours. “You'll think twice before trying to leave me.”

He shoves it all in one go, splitting you open, forcing you to take every inch without prep, taking your breath away. Your back arches, the burn from his name grinding into the cushions beneath you, amplifying everything. You're gasping and trembling, a mess of pain and pressure and panic.

He drops down onto his forearms, elbows braced on either side of your head. For a moment he stays still, just breathing you in, your tight, trembling warmth wrapped around him like a vice.

“Fuck,” he growls followed by a breathless laugh, “you feel perfect like this. So tight like you were made to take me.”

You feel so full. You always do when you're having sex with Dabi, but it was never like this. Never full of pain and humiliation and fear. The stream of tears flows, unable to stop yourself from crying out in both shame and pleasure as he starts moving, sharp and hard thrusts right from the start.

He doesn't allow you a moment to adjust to his size, much less the chance to feel comfortable with the feel of his piercings scraping inside your gummy walls with each punishing thrust. The metal scrapes and catches on the soft, sensitive flesh inside you, sending sharp pulses of sensation that blur the line between pain and something worse.

You cry out, legs trembling in his grip, but he only tightens his hold, forcing your thighs wider, nearly folding you in half.

Dabi drives his hips with fervor, damp fringes clinging to his forehead, sweat glistening along the sharp angles of his face. Skin flushed from the exertion, breaths coming out in ragged bursts, heat radiating off his skin as he moved with desperation. His body is hot to the touch and you had since given up trying to push him off you, pleasure soon clouding your mind and body.

Each drag of his cock sends you further down, dragging you with him to the depths of ecstasy, regardless of your willingness.

Dabi props himself on one hand, hooded eyes drinking you in with a smug look on his face. “Finally giving in?” He drawls, free hand trailing upward to cup the swell of your breast, calloused fingers kneading the soft flesh. “All you needed was a big cock and a good fucking to set you straight, huh?”

“ ‘m sorry..” The words barely come out as a whisper, soft and low he almost didn't hear it.

He echoes your words, “You’re sorry? You weren't sorry when you were secretly packing up your stuff.” His thumb lazily flicks at your nipple, hips slowing down to deep, hard strokes. “You weren't sorry when you met up with that perverted prick behind my back.”

His hand finds purchase at your throat, fingers pressing lightly at the sides of your neck. Not constricting just yet but it's enough to instill obedience. Instinctively, you grab at his wrist with both hands, fingernails scratching at the scarred skin and drawing blood but it does nothing to deter him.

His pain receptors were already fucked, no matter what you throw at him, scratching or otherwise, he wouldn't even feel it anyway.

“You weren't sorry when you slapped me earlier. Otherwise we wouldn't be here.” He applies pressure on your throat, the weight of his palm firm and unforgiving.

Your breath catches, panic flickering in your chest, eyes rolling back at the continued lack of oxygen in your lungs. With the last of your strength, your hold on his wrist tightens, nails digging into his skin to free yourself but to no avail.

Dabi doesn't stop moving. His pace picking up, merciless and unrelenting, uncaring of whether or not you can keep up with him. A crooked grin plays on his lips as he watches the tears stream down your flushed cheeks, enjoying the sight of you beneath him, shaking, undone, and still so tight around him it nearly drives him mad.

“You break so pretty,” he mutters against your ear, voice low and ragged. “Don’t go quiet on me now, doll.”

He talks to you tauntingly, not exactly expecting a reply because he still has his hand on your throat.

You grip what you can get your hands on other than Dabi’s wrist, trying to anchor yourself as his fingers finally ease their hold, but his hand stays there, thumb brushing the rapid pulse beneath it. Every thrust pulls you closer to the edge, the coil wounding tighter in your core against your will.

Dabi groans, hips stuttering as he feels you clench around him. “You close, baby? Go on, I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

The tension in your core unravels in a blinding wave of white-hot pleasure, crashing through you with a force that steals the air from your lungs. You cry out, loud and broken, coming undone as your walls flutter around him, clenching with every pulse of pleasure that rips through you.

He curses under his breath, the control he's been holding on to slipping as he drives into you harder and deeper, chasing his own high. His hand moves from your throat to your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, tilting your face towards him so he can watch every flicker of bliss in your expression.

Then with a few more thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt with a deep guttural groan, spilling inside you in thick, hot spurts, painting your insides white.

Relief washes over you, eyes fluttering close with a soft exhale at the prospect of finally being given a moment of reprieve. But it's fleeting, slipping away like a rug yanked from beneath your feet. As if a second of rest would be asking for too much.

Dabi's hips move again, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in.

You choke on a gasp, “W-wait, ‘s too much..!”

Deep, hard thrusts send waves of unforgiving pleasure thrumming through your body, fogging your mind in a haze, eyes glossing over as the prickling feeling of overstimulation settles. Your toes curl and nails dig into his back as Dabi drives his hips into yours repeatedly, each wet sound echoing in the living room space. A white ring forms at the base of his cock, the remnants of his first load spilling with each thrust.

It all feels too much, too soon, already feeling yourself hurtling towards another orgasm faster than you can comprehend. His hand slips between you, easily finding your clit with skilled hands as he watches you unravel before him. And only for him.

“Look at you,” He exhales in shaky breaths, a smirk playing on his lips. “We've barely even started and it looks like I've already fucked you dumb, huh sweetheart?”

A whine is all the response he receives, your eyes closing and moaning with each punishing thrust of his hips.

“Don't think we're anywhere near finished, hm,” He leans down, bodies tangling together without an inch to spare. Hot lips press open mouthed kisses along your collarbone, trialing up your jaw. “You lied to me. Betrayed my trust. You were planning on leaving me.”

His noses at the hollow where your neck meets shoulder, a soft, deliberate inhale, lightly nipping. “You don’t get to walk away without paying for that.”

Teeth graze your skin, his breath molten hot. Pearly whites sink down on your shoulder, punctuated with a particularly brutal thrust. The sound he makes is raw and primal, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

The ache fades into a dizzying cocktail of pain and pleasure that leaves your head spinning with a silent cry. The slow, wet drag of his tongue over the fresh bite mark is a cruel contrast to the sting. You hiss through your teeth, body jolting at the sensation.

Dabi chuckles low, like he’s savoring your every reaction. “Still with me, baby?” He murmurs against your skin, tongue flicking over the mark again, less in a soothing gesture and more in torment.

The tears flow freely, and with a flick of his wrist between your legs and the relentless push and pull of his hips, you once again come undone under his touch, crying out so sweetly in pleas and begs that sound like music to his ears.

And just like that, your vision blurs and you can barely comprehend what's happening, dipping in and out of consciousness. Your body feels distant, untethered, floating somewhere between pleasure and overstimulation.

Dabi can barely contain his excitement the second you go limp in his hold, he had to physically stop himself from moving to adjust his position. Leaning back on his heels a bit, he grasps your hips, unmindful of the burn mark he had marked you with, and hoisting you on to his lap. The angle allows him better movement, hitting even deeper than before.

With his hold, he pulls your body towards him with every thrust, using you to get himself off.

He throws his head back with a loud groan, “fuckin’ hell, feels so good,” he cums again, keeping himself still, cum spurting right in your womb. Gently rubbing his thumbs on your sides, he caresses your lower half. He takes your cheeks in both hands, squeezing before letting go with a quick pat and quietly admiring the burn of his handprint on your skin.

He doesn't bother pulling out just yet, simply threading a hand through his damp hair. The creak of the floorboards and the sound of heavy boots thudding has him frowning. He tilts his head, turning his gaze towards the origin of the noise. There stands Hawks, still in his hero costume, gloved hands held up in front of him in a placating gesture. Trademark smile on his infuriating face.

Hawks gives his best disarming smile, attempting to charm his way out of trouble. “I just got here, promise!”

Dabi knew better. He would've heard the door open or the swing of a window, but then again Hawks is a trained hero. He could've slipped in without anyone noticing who knows how many minutes ago unless Dabi was too focused on you to realize.

Dabi raises a brow, rethinking his options, then shakes his head. “Do you always show up fashionably late to a threesome invite, or is this a special excuse? You sure took your sweet time. Almost thought you weren't coming.”

Hawks’ gaze drifts from Dabi then to your unconscious form, “There was a drive-by.” He offers as an explanation, “I couldn't just ignore it. What kind of hero would that make me if I did?”

“Whatever. Just get your ass over here.” Dabi finally pulls out of you, replying casually to Hawks as if he isn't offering you to someone else. “If you arrived a minute later, I would've kicked your feathered ass out.”

“Harsh.” Hawks replies with a faux pout.

“Fuck her or leave.”

#bnha imagines #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha imagines #dabi smut #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #todoroki smut #dabi x you #dabi todoroki #mha smut #mha x reader #cw yandere

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dokyumms · 3 months ago

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i'll take the time, treat you like a lady

pairings: the8 x afab!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 616

cw: periods, mention of medication (ibuprofen), excessive use of “băobèi”

a/n: a request for anon! posting this late bc i legit spent the whole day writing a svt reaction just to get a writer's block halfway through but i still tried to finish it and it didn't end well........

"i'm bleeding, in pure pain, and hormonal."

that's the text you send to minghao on a tuesday afternoon. to be fair, it's the truth. your period came in full swing with no warning while minghao was out, so now you're stuck with bloody bed sheets (that are currently being washed) and the worst cramps you've gotten in your life.

normally, you wouldn't text him over this stuff, but right now, you're definitely not in the mood to be alone.

at first, he responds with, "??" but then follows up with, "i'm On my way!"

groaning at the throbbing pain in your lower abdomen, you curl into yourself and wait impatiently for your boyfriend on the couch.

it’s about 15 minutes before minghao enters the apartment, calling out your name as he takes off his shoes.

he softens when he finds you on the couch, still curled into yourself, arms wrapped around your waist area as you sleep.

reaching out, he almost thinks about letting you rest more, but then you make a discomforted noise in your sleep and he pokes you a little.

“bǎobèi, i’m here~” he sing songs softly, attempting to wake you up. you wink one eye open, and go right back to sleep.

now he’s the one groaning, “aren’t you on your period? you need to wake up so you can take ibuprofen.” unfortunately, you’re too stubborn for your own good, refusing to get up.

he sighs, deciding not to test you, he gives you a kiss on the forehead, “fine, if you don’t want to get up, i’ll just take care of you from here. give me a minute.” you cry out in protest at the absence of his warmth, but that reason is quickly replaced by another strike of pain going through your lower abdomen.

after what seems like years (for you), minghao returns with ibuprofen and a hot water bottle. “here, let me take care of you, love.” he says, stroking your hair and watching you intently as you take the painkiller.

he lays the hot water bottle on you, giving you another kiss before he gets up to go make you a meal when you reach for his arm.

“can you just stay here for a little?”

“but you need to eat something,” he insists hesitantly, though he does consider your suggestion.

“please, hao,” you plead, looking up at him with the best puppy eyes you can muster.

you watch as he goes through an internal argument with himself before finally accepting defeat because he doesn’t want to accidentally make you cry.

“don’t complain when your stomach starts hurting because you haven’t eaten.” he warns lightly (knowing damn well he’d go make you food in record time) as he slides in next to you. you laugh, thinking of something to shoot back, but you feel the throbbing pain come back before you can say anything.

you bite back a curse and fall onto minghao’s chest, whining, “when does it (the ibuprofen) kick in~”

“soon, băobèi, soon.” he murmurs, pulling a blanket over you two and wrapping his arms around you. “it’s gonna go away, i promise.” he whispers along with other reassuring words, holding you tightly.

but once the pain subsides comes the emotional sensitivity…

“what’s wrong, love?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you start crying out of nowhere.

“i was just reminded of this video that had a cat in it and i realized that i’ll never have a cat because i’m allergic. but they’re so cute~” you cry into minghao’s shoulder.

“ah, we can get a stuffed animal cat, it’s okay băobèi.”

“but it’s not the same!”

and this repeats every single month.

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venusentranced · 3 months ago

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˖˙⟡ sucking niki off 💭

‧₊˚ ┊the idea of giving niki head has infiltrated my mind, bloodstone and i discussed it and i have to get it out of my head... kind of rushed oops

the moment your spit drips onto the head of his cock he's sucking in his breath with a small "ah," leaning back as far as he can. you smooth it across his length before slowly wrapping your lips around the width, gently making your way down. "oh fuck." niki is vocal, it's an asset you can (and will) always taken advantage of, it's easy to tell how close or far he is from an orgasm and how good he feels. your tongue glides up and down his shaft with ease, using your hand to stroke what can’t fit in your mouth; the feeling is addictive, your spit rolls down his skin in warm streaks and the way you hallow your cheeks is skillful to say the least. he lets out a moan and squeezes his eyes shut, bringing his hands to his cover his face. niki is very touchy, though he tries not to be so rough, he's a good boy, he's just extremely sensitive and the sensitivity becomes desperation quickly. your mouth pulls off of him with a string of saliva connecting you both, your hand replaces your lips while you catch your breath. "you’re doing so good~" you purr, kissing his thigh and squeezing his tip. he whines, "please don’t stop." your tongue licks a long, wet stripe up before you reconnect and suck him back down. a gasp escapes him, his fingers running into his hair and he begins to pull at the root, tiny whimpers spilling out followed by profanities or moans. "you feel so good." his voice is dry and quiet, tears filling his eyes as each wave of pleasure causes him to grow more and more desperate while his face becomes wet by stray tears. you hum to him, massaging his thigh when you hear his cries. niki's self restraint is like a rubber band being stretched thin and it snaps the moment your tongue swirls his tip and plays with the slit. his hands tangle themselves in your hair, grabbing a fistful of it before he tries to push you down; a strike lands against his skin, the same spot you were just trying to soothe. "fuck, sorry, please." he whimpers, he needs to cum and he needs it now. you roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt to apologize but you never stop teasing him. his eyes flutter open to look down at you, his lashes wet and his face tear stained, his lip quivers at the sight of you staring directly up at him. "gonna cum.." he mutters, a broken moan leaves him when you speed up to usher him along. moans and whimpers pour out of him like a leaking cup, pulling tighter at your hair and completely missing when you trying to shoo his hands away. a few moments pass before he's pushing down on your head and trying to push himself farther into your mouth, you pull off of him and watch as his cum spills out into nothing, a pathetic "no" coming from your boy as he pants. his orgasm washes over him, his body shaking as he gasps and whimpers through it. "next time, i'm tying your hands up."

#sub!idol #sub!enhypen #sub enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen x reader #saphs-thoughts #sub niki #sub!niki #niki x reader #niki hard hours #niki hard thoughts #niki smut

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moon-ttokki-x · 4 months ago

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Hi ttokki!! I love the way you write the members being soft and caring for reader :) wanted to request 9th member where she is similar age to chan, so noona to most of the guys, being maybe like his second in command in caring for everyone, cooking, teaching choreo and stuff. Where they realise she's not been taking good care of herself for a while, like skipping meals or sleep bc she feels responsible like she doesnt deserve it. Just soft and gently, you are so skilled at that

hiyo~ thank you sm, love. i liked this request, i tend to do the same for people around me and it's easy to forget yourself sometimes >< hope this hits the spot . . .

rest easy - ot8!skz x exhausted!reader

pairing: ot8!skz x exhausted noona!reader

summary: taking care of skz can be a lot of work, but you tend to forget yourself in the process...

genre: lil bit angsty, idol!au, tired minho with a headache, overexcited skz (what's new), mentions of skipping meals, slight mention of blood (a small injury), mentions of overwork, fatigue, and exhaustion, mentions of food and eating, sulky maknaes, slight allude to reader x chan

a/n: reader pretty much replaces minho for the role of skz mom (sorry min), divider by @kodaswrld

skz masterlist

"Jisung, take that out of your mouth- Seungmin, no, don't give it back to him... You two, stop fighting-"

You smile and lean your head on your hand, watch Chan attempt to wrangle the members, most of which have had far too much sugar to be at a controllable level. You're sitting at the hotel table, and most of the other members are messing about in the lounge area. Everyone but for Minho, who went to lie down earlier, complaining of a headache.

Speaking of, you should probably go check on him.

Getting up and putting your empty glass in the sink, you make your way past the group and down the hallway of bedrooms, entering the second-left door. You're greeted with darkness and a faint groan from within the heap of rumpled sheets on the bed.

"Minho?" You call softly, pulling the door half-shut so as not to disturb him with the hallway light. You walk up to the bed, quiet as a mouse. "How are you feeling?"

He just groans in response as you gently pull back the sheets, checking his temperature just in case he's fallen ill. "Noona..."

"Shh," you quiet him gently, soothing. "Does it hurt much?"

He shakes his head, his hair splayed against the pillow. Likely he's just tired from the day's events. You sit on the end of the bed and stroke his hair for a while, lulling him to sleep. He's already had medicine, and you kiss his forehead gently before getting up to leave.

Shutting the door, you're met with Jeongin and Seungmin, who cling to either one of your arms, sulking. You chuckle and sit down on the lounge couch, both of them burying their faces in your neck.

"What's wrong, you two?" You ask, ruffling Seungmin's hair.

"Chan-hyung told us off," Jeongin whines.

You mock-frown at the leader, who is standing in baggy black clothes, a disapproving expression on his face. He face-palms and you stick your tongue out at him. He scoffs, though you can detect a hint of affection behind it, and claps his hands.

"Alright, you drama kings. Bed."

"Hyunjin, take it easy," you say, concerned as he runs through the choreo for a fifth time. "Take a break."

He seems to not have heard, because he keeps dancing with even greater fervour. Sighing, you take his ear and drag him to the side, ignoring his protests. Tossing him a towel and giving him a bottle of water, you place a hand on his leg. You know he's been pushing himself lately, to the point where you had to lock the hotel room door so he wouldn't sneak out at night to practice.

You're all outside at the concert venue, doing soundchecks a few hours before the event commences, and it's cloudy, the wind blowing a breeze through everyone's hair. Chan comes over, frazzled, papers flying behind him, his cap half-falling off, and his fingers covered in bandaids from several clumsy, hastened tasks he had to do.

"I forgot to do the song breaks," he gasps, his hair disheveled. Hyunjin side-eyes him through a sip of water.

You adjust his cap, smoothing down the little duck tail curls at his nape. "Don't worry. I did them already. What did you do to your hands- Mmhff-"

You're cut off as he squeezes you in a hug, a relieved exhale leaving his frame, taking some of the tension with it. "Thank you, Y/nnie. What would I do without you?"

The sentence reverberates through your head; would things be worse without you there?

This means I need to do more, you think. I can help out as much as possible.

You mull this over and wave a momentary goodbye to Hyunjin, walking backstage with Chan. Felix, Changbin, and Jisung are busy being fitted for outfits and they immediately pummel you for attention, calling out as soon as you enter the room.

"NOONA LOOK AT MY SPARKLY TOP-"

"NOONA DO YOU LIKE THE COLOUR OF THESE GLOVES-"

"NOONA DO I LOOK COOL-"

You wave your hands. "Very cool and sparkly, I do like the colour, you all look great!"

It seems to satisfy them for the time being, and you watch them dissipate to their respective stylists. Passing through the room, you sit down in a chair in the corner and keep an eye on all of the boys. Chan is stressed enough right now; the least you can do is keep an eye on the members while he finalises things for the concert.

Your stomach rumbles and you think about quickly leaving to get food from one of the cafes across the street from the stadium, but you can't risk leaving the members unsupervised. Guaranteed, one of them will come looking, and then everything will fall to pieces. Crossing your arms over your stomach, you sigh and unscrew a bottle of water instead. That should keep you full for a while.

At least you hope it does.

You laugh and hug a sweaty Jisung, cheering. The concert went off without a hitch, and you're all backstage, congratulating each other on the performances and enjoying the moment of togetherness. Except you can't enjoy it as much, because your head is beginning to hurt, and it's starting to get difficult to see. You probably should have eaten something earlier, but you can last until you all get back to the hotel.

You all file out of the venue and pile into cars. Your foot almost missed the car threshold and you bump your shin, hissing as you collapse into the seat next to Chan.

"You okay?" He asks. He has his headphones in, his makeup smudging a little at the corners of his eyes.

You nod, sighing. "Long day. Good work on the performance."

He smiles and you reach up to gently clean up the messy makeup with a thumb, his gaze fixed on you. Jeongin and Seungmin are looking over the back of the seats in disgust.

"Noona," Hyunjin groans from behind. "Stop hitting on leader-hyung."

You roll your eyes and look out the window as Chan turns to tell him off. Your thoughts wander and you rub a hand against your shin, trying to soothe the ache. Your fingers come away lightly stained in red.

Panicking, and then glancing at Chan to check he hasn't seen, you inspect your leg. There's a few spots of red where the blood has soaked through the fabric of your pants, and you cross your legs quickly so as to hide the stain.

You think for a moment; you could ask someone if they have a bandaid, maybe... after all, there are always first aid kits in the cars, but you can't be weak and ask for help. Your job is to be there when other people ask for help, not the other way round.

Sighing, you try your best to hide your pain as you filter out of the car after the others. Your stomach rumbles, more insistently this time, and you quickly uncap your water bottle, trying to quell the dull, growing ache in your stomach. Your head hurts too, but you don't have time to think about it as you enter the hotel room, mind already whirring with things that need to be done.

You go to your room and quickly slap a bandaid on the cut on your shin, washing your hands of the blood and then changing into comfier clothes. Rolling your sleeves up, you enter the kitchen and begin cutting up ingredients, throwing spices into a pan and seasoning meat. The guys have had a long, tiring day, not to mention a whole concert, so they deserve a good, home-cooked meal away from home.

"Noona, this is so good," Felix groans, heaping in another mouthful of cheesy tteokbokki. There's silence around the table; everyone is so invested in stuffing their faces. Hyunjin has even tied his hair back so he can eat without dipping his hair in the soup, and Changbin has stolen two of your hairclips to keep his bangs back for the same reason.

You sit next to Chan as per usual, holding a cup of a hot herbal drink; you didn't feel like eating is what you told the boys when they insisted you take your share of the massive spread you cooked for them.

In reality, you're starving, but it doesn't seem fair for you to be eating when they've been working so much harder. They deserve it more. After all, you're just the second-in-command, Chan's right hand person and a manager for the boys. You don't work nearly twice as hard as they do on a good day.

You set the mug down on the table, standing up. The pain in your head aches and throbs sharply with the movement and you fight not to fall over. "I'm going to bed."

Some of the guys nod with mouths full of meat and rice, and you retire to your room, shutting the door. You collapse on the bed and close your eyes, trying to will the headache away.

That doesn't work, unfortunately.

The door opens then, and it's Minho who comes in, peeking around the corner. "Noona?"

"Mmm."

"Do you have a headache like I did?"

You nod and sit up, rubbing your eyes, and give him a tired smile. "Nothing I can't handle. Did you need something?"

He shakes his head, and then shyly comes into the room, holding a bowl of soup. "I saw you weren't eating earlier... Chan-hyung wondered if we should bring you something to eat..."

You let him place the soup on the bedside. "Thank you, Minho. I might just sleep, but I'll eat after-"

"No," he says firmly, with the absolute ferocity of a tiny, fluffy kitten.

"What?"

Jisung pokes his head in at the doorway. "You have to eat now."

You swing your legs off the bed. "Why?"

"Because," Chan says, appearing behind the two, Jeongin holding his leader's sleeve, "You need to take care of yourself and not just us."

"But I am."

The four boys suddenly tumblr into the room as Changbin and Hyunjin stick their noses into the conversation too.

"Noona, you hurt your leg earlier and you didn't tell us," Hyunjin whines. "And you told me to take a break from dancing but you didn't take a break the whole day-"

"Yeah, and then you went to your room and pretended to sleep so you wouldn't have to eat," Changbin pouts.

Chan gestures to the still-cooling soup on the bedside that Minho had brought for you earlier. "Please, Y/n."

You sigh. "Okay, okay. It just felt wrong to be eating as well, since I don't work even half as hard as you guys do-"

You're interrupted by a crowd of indignant protests and it's so loud that you immediately raise the soup bowl to your mouth. All of the boys watch as you take a mouthful of the rich, meaty broth. It fills your stomach on the first go. Your headache slowly begins to fade.

The boys filter into the room and hang around you while you eat, bickering and play-fighting. None of them make you feel self-conscious or inferior, just bringing with them a sort of peace.

You eventually fall asleep curled between two of the boys, surrounded by serenity, warmth, and the still-lingering scent of soup hanging faintly in the air.

a/n: i was gonna name this one 'soup' but i already have a jisung fic about soup soooo

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wonysugar · 4 months ago

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KARINA X READER W ORAL FIXATION

oral fixations are such a broad topic so i did some research and had fun with this, i think this is the type of oral fixation you meant lol? thank you for the idea :]

cw : usage of strap-on

you and jimin often hung out, being girlfriends at all. naturally, you progressively got to notice each other's little tics and habits as the relationship went on.

for example, you knew that she had a tendency to furrow her eyebrows at every little thing, whether she was focused, confused or simply just forming a thought. or or!! that she sticks out her tongue in every other situation; sometimes the joke she'd tell would call for it, other times she’d do it just cause. whatever it was she did, you found it endearing.

and she would say the same thing about you! except for… a particular habit of yours. she didn’t hate it or anything. it’s more like she… loved it a bit too much? for all the wrong reasons? to put it simply, she felt like a pervert for feeling the way she did toward it.

see, you had the tendency to put things in your mouth and chewing on them at all times. whether it was your nails, a pen you happened to be holding or even just a straw you had finished using a long while ago. whatever it was, you would spend hours chewing on it. and the context of the situation didn’t matter either, you needed to keep your mouth occupied at all times, and that was that.

jimin thought it was adorable when she first got to know you, a few years back, but once you two got closer, her thoughts got more and more… deranged about the whole thing.

the mere idea made her stomach turn; the two of you making out on her couch, feeling each other up as you usually do. she’d pleasantly surprise you by pulling away from the kiss and replace the feeling of her tongue with her fingers, watching you suck and lick on them whilst you looked up at her. how you would drool all over her digits the same way you’d drool on her strap, later into the dark night.

she’d always shrug it off, though. she never brought it up in bed since she was overthinking basically everythingcjfjckdn she didn’t want you to think she was weird, or anything!

that was until you asked her to let you suck her off during sex, which was something you’d never done before. she contained her excitement when she heard those words and proceeded to rationally ask you why it is that you wanted to do that, all of a sudden.

“i dunno,” you shrugged, “my mouth needs attention, i guess.”

KAAABEWWWMMMM!! jimin played it off, cool and collected, but inside? girl SHE CHEERED! the opportunity finally presented itself to her; she didn’t have to potentially risk passing as a creep yippe!! of course, that was all in her head, as you would’ve happily obliged if she had just asked you.

the actual sex later on? ohh you could tell she was having so much fun with your little oral fixation, she was smiling down at you the entire time. you had originally asked her to just let you blow her, but she went above and beyond your expectations.

you looked up at her, on your knees. she caressed your bottom lip with her thumb before sliding it into your mouth, a smirk plastered on her face as she looked down at you. “you want it, baby?” she’d say, ‘it’ being the black strap-on she was wearing. you’d nod in response, quickly getting what it is that you wanted.

by this point you were practically soaked, that much was obvious, but you didn’t know how much better it would get until she layed you down on your back to finger you; she told you to suck on her tits while she did so.😭😭😭😭ohh brother.

she pumped two of her digits in and out of you, fingers curled right against your g-spot as her thumb gently pressed on your clit, all in a repetitive motion. your attempt to hold your orgasm—after she ordered you to—was barely successful when you had your hand on one of her breasts, carefully fondling it. you tried to focus your attention on catching her nipple in between your fingertips and playing with it gently, but that just contributed to turning you on more.

on top of that, she had the other boob settled right onto your lips, her hand on the back of your head, pushing you closer to her. your mouth sucked and licked on the bud, your tongue working around it. you fed off of the pretty sounds that came out of her whenever you did.

after what felt like a painful eternity of her relentlessly pumping in and out of your dripping cunt with her fingers, she finally gave you permission to cum, much to your relief.

that eventual orgasm hit you like a truck and may or may not have knocked you the fuck out after a few minutes of heavy breathing.😭

she kissed your (very sweaty) forehead, satisfied and happy she could please you. the sight of her girlfriend sound asleep was enough for jimin to make a mental note for the times to come; to never neglect your mouth again.

#anon asks #anon #smut #kpop gg #female reader #aespa smut #karina x female reader #karina aespa smut #karina x fem reader #aespa karina smut #yoo jimin smut #yoo jimin #karina smut #aespa x reader

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bunnwich · 6 months ago

Text

Why Leona Gave Himself The Bad Ending

Leona Kingscholar Analysis

Usual disclaimer to say that these are just my thoughts and you don’t have to feel pressured to agree. This was my thought process as I played through the parts of Chapter 7 Parts 212-226, featuring Leona’s dream triggered by Malleus’s magic.

I wanna start off by saying that I believe all the dreams are a mixture of Malleus’s magic and the dreamers themselves.

Idia theorized that Malleus is sort of “setting up the parameters” in a way, then each of the dreamers' personalities and imaginations affect the dream in different ways. The emphasis of this has been brought by Idia several times that it’s the strength of imagination that determines how complex dreams are. Which is maybe why in the first years dreams seem so basic? They’re young, their magical abilities are still new, and their magic is no match for Malleus’s magic. That and, to be fair, most of the first years don’t have the same amount of angst and turmoil as some of the other second years and third years have.

With that being said, I believe that because of his high intelligence, magical prowess, and his hyper-vigilance, that is the main reason Leona’s dream was so…different than the others.

But let's get into it!

There are a lot of Lion King references in this dream, and it’s very clear the writers wanted to play around and show this off. I feel like they did a good job of integrating the themes of the movie into Leona's dream. It does give me a little validation as I feel Leona’s struggles and personality are closely linked to his great Seven Counterpart, Scar. More so than any of the other overblotters. When I analyze Leona I sometimes I do use Scar as a starting point to understand his intentions.

This is how I came to the conclusion long ago that being king would never make Leona happy because it's not what he truly wants.

We start with the dream back in the Sunset Savanna. It’s VERY interesting to see that there is hyena prejudice right off the bat as a woman flees from Ruggie while he attempts to buy food.

Right off, everyone can tell something is…off about the city. Especially coming fresh from Ruggie’s dream where everything was idyllic and happy for hyenas BECAUSE of Leona.

Grim hits us with the: “I laugh in the face of danger!” line. We even get the three hyenas referenced and the “love for you to stick around for dinner” line. The once proud lioness-dominated palace guard has been taken over by hyena “ruffians” (interesting choice to portray a disenfranchised group being given jobs as the new guard as a negative thing, but moving on.)

The first interesting thing we get is that the palace is somewhat rundown and empty? The group makes comments of how dark and dreary it is, and how few people are around. Is there an implication that the servants fled at some point after Leona became King or did he replace them? This further shows me that Leona for whatever reason has chosen to isolate himself. To me, it's most likely that he already feels isolated by his country and those in the palace.

From the looks of it “Malleus’s magic” has given Leona the one thing he has always wanted, but has he? Leona seems less than thrilled and genuinely upset by the fact his whole family is...gone. As I mentioned in my Leona relationships post, I think that he holds a complex relationship with his family, and while he resents them, in no way can I see him wanting them to be dead.

It’s now I started to think that Leona’s magic was overriding the simple “let them eat cake” logic of all of the happier dreams. This dream feels TOO real, dark, dreary, and…sad. Could it be Leona’s intelligence or cynicism, ruining what’s supposed to be an idyllic scenario?

Why is even in his WILDEST dreams Leona is still miserable?

Hmm.

A lot of people have talked about Kifaji and their thoughts on his presence. It’s strange to see people praise him as “a loving parental figure” as if he’s really there trying to help Leona. But, Kifaji is not there. This Kifaji is a manifestation of Leona’s mind and I’ll get to why that’s interesting and what I think he represents. Remember, that often in other dreams we’ve seen of loved ones or rivals and they can act normal, out of character, or even cruel. Vil and Neigie come to mind and Neige turned out to be the blot keeping Vil asleep.

Kifaji is a bit different. He actively tries to help the group wake Leona as opposed to encouraging the twisted dream logic. For this reason, to me, Kifaji represents Leona’s conscious and the Dream!Leona we see represents his shadow self, like the dark side of the moon. AKA, the Leona we meet in Chapter 2. In fact, this whole dream feels like a rehash of Chapter 2.

We get the outdated Leona that dumbs himself down and settles for less, cloaking himself in his pride and believing that everyone is below him. An idle king while he lets others do his dirty work. (Scar basically.)

Leona asks Kifaji to sing (another Lion King reference) and it plays out how you would think. Leona tells Kifaji that he is the only competent person in the kingdom. And he argues that the kingdom is in shambles, not because of his choices as King, but because everyone else sucks basically.

Hmm.

Kifaji reminds Leona that while he is clever and his plans are grand, that he can not treat people like human chess pieces. (Can I just say I love when chess is brought up to us because I find that when people analyze Leona or his thoughts they often forget how much he uses chess to process his thoughts. We saw that plenty in the Tamashina Mina event!) I think it helps him sort his thoughts and emotions which he can have a hard time doing.

I think Kifaji represents Leona’s mindset post Chapter 2 and because Kifaji in his real life is one of the only people who probably stands up to Leona, he has placed him in this antagonist role in his mind. (but not really) Plus, it’s not far off from Kifaji’s actual treatment of Leona in the Tamashina Mina event.

So yeah, Leona acts more like he does in Chapter 2—he's the player or the king even and everyone else around is just lowly pieces.

Just like the scene from The Lion King, Scar and Leona are not happy. Even though they are supposedly getting their deepest desire, they remain bitter and…alone.

When I first began to read into Leona it was quite obvious to me that the whole “I’ll never be king" thing was just a front for something else. What I think Leona truly craves is approval and acceptance.

Being king, especially of a broken kingdom that despises him, will never make him happy. But, why do the people not love him? This is supposed to be a fantasy right?

There is this interesting layer of how he became king too. Instead of Cheka or Falena simply not existing, like I thought it might be, they are dead. That is…so much more tragic than it needed to be. As if deep down Leona believes the only way he can become king (his dreams to come true) is if tragedy happens. This reminds me of his bitter view/the symbolism of his unique magic. That he can only bring misery wherever he goes—everything he touches turns to sand.

I also think that Leona is afraid of failing and much of this dream is his anxieties and insecurities that linger from all his past failures.

Though interestingly enough, I sense that in the dream, as implied later by Idia, Leona has implemented an “over-exaggeration” of his policies and plans for the kingdom. It was almost like he purposely ran his resources dry and gave up trying to compromise with anyone for the sake of “progress.”

Why, though?

It’s very masochistic in a way. It’s almost like he wanted to prove himself right. Everything he touches will turn to sand eventually and his grand plans will fail even if he claims they are “perfect.”

That’s why this dream is probably the most masochistic and self-deprecating we have seen. I think what initially began to draw me to Leona’s character is because of the hidden pain he holds. He is by far one of the most easygoing, and lackadaisical acting of the cast, but…he cares, he cares so, so much about how he is perceived and his haunted by his hopelessness about his future and the failures of his past.

I think the pain of never feeling good enough, causes his mind to be unable to “play nice” with Malleus’s dream magic to even manifest any sort of positive future. One where he holds a position he wants AND is loved and respected. it’s just impossible that he could ever have that, even in his wildest dreams.

He’s too much of a “realist.”

Side tangent, but a frustrating take is to see was the: “Oh yeah, see? He would have sucked as king.” tinged comments after this came out.

I think it’s more complicated than that.

This isn’t me trying to defend him necessarily, but to be fair, all dreams tend to be over exaggerations by the dreamer. Plus, I think the fact that Ruggie HATES Leona in this dream and is suddenly in favor of Falena, is a sign right there we can not trust Leona’s interpretation of the people he knows in his dream. He is sort of an unreliable narrator that way.

Besides, like in The Lion King, why would all the water dry up, just because the hyenas over-hunted?

A big theme in Lion King and even The Lion Guard TV show is "the balance of nature." The blight upon the Pridelands when Scar takes over feels more like symbolism of the “unbalance of nature” caused by the tragedy of Mufasa’s death. Which makes me again, connect that Leona feels the only way he can succeed is by inflicting misery on others. Like his magic, perhaps a part of him believes he is a curse.

I theorized in my Tamashina Mina review, that maybe Leona feels like an outcast himself, and the separation he feels from his country is showcased in how he blames the citizens for the decline of the kingdom, rather than his plans. He feels isolated from them.

By this point, I was having flashbacks to Chapter 2, where he got a whiff of his plan failing and he still pushed through even though he knew it would fail. At first, he may have started doing okay as king, but maybe when he came upon too many obstacles or pushback, He just gave up. Because he was not instantly loved by the people, who probably already feared him, he’d rather not even try. Suddenly, they are “not worth his time”, and he can’t help them because they suck.

Leona’s problem has always been his pride. I think he has to put it aside to genuinely help people reach their potential and learn to collaborate with others more. Part of how this dream plays out, is him realizing that maybe some criticisms Kifaji had about his pride all along may be true. Leona refuses to play nice with others.

That’s why I think Kifaji represents a more sensible and lucid Leona. He is in a sense, talking to his past self, and trying to shake himself from the dream and his outdated ideals.

Ortho even points out that Ruggie is not really the Ruggie we know but rather a part of Leona’s imagination. Again, which puts emphasis on how the characters in his dream are more indicative of his mindset as opposed to being “in character”. Maybe Ruggie hating him in his dream is his inner anxieties about him and Ruggie post Chapter 2 fallout. He feels like Ruggie could never forgive him for what he did. He let him down. And Leona being bad with people and feelings, doesn’t know the proper way to apologize.

Kifaji (woke Leona) says that the state of the kingdom is a result of him “pursuing efficiency over all things and disregarding other people's feelings.” It really feels like he is calling himself out here. Does he REALLY wanna help people? Or is it just Leona’s selfish pride who wants attention for just being smart?

Dream!Leona complains about the protesters interrupting his nap which is another sign for me of the exaggeration of the scenario of Leona being the king. Like...did he not criticize Falena for having the same carefree and laid-back attitude? And yet here he is...complacent in the same behavior he once criticized Falena of.

Interesting.

Ortho mentions that Leona’s dream is clearly a more complex situation than the other dreams.

I think there is a key implication we are missing here too, that I haven’t seen many mention. There is a throwaway line that Jack mentions that Leona has not attended school and is king instead. And he doesn't seem to know Dream!Ruggie either. Nor Ruggie him.

There is no doubt his time at NRC has shaped him to be the Leona we know now. Someone who has at least somewhat benefited with the connections he made at school. It does seem like this Dream!Leona is regressed. And because he never attended school, he is a much colder person who has no regard for others' feelings at all. He is even more socially inept.

I feel like this is a common theme to show us that despite the independent nature of most of the students at NRC, that it can still be “the friends we made along the way.” trope. These connections do matter and especially to Leona. He mentions this in his post-overblot monologue in the light novel. He found his pack at NRC. This time with his dorm members affected his personality for the better. It's kinda sweet when you think about it!

Ortho mentions Dream!Leona appears DEEPLY absorbed in the delusions of his dream. This means that even though he has the lucid failsafe of Kifaji, Leona’s self-deprecation, despair, and pain are still overtaking his logic. That's what's crafted this nightmare. (And he later references it as such.)

Everyone acknowledges that he can’t possibly be happy and looks EVEN MORE miserable than at school. It can't be a silly happy fantasy, but a grim dark reality of what he thinks of himself.

That's why he gave himself the bad ending.

I love the double entendre of Idia saying Leona is building his dream like a “sandbox” game. Lots of Minecraft references. (Leona Minecrafter confirmed? Or hear me out…Leona playing King Crusaders or Civilization V FGHJ)

Anyways, Idia or Ortho, (I forget) suggests that perhaps he has run out of ”simulations” for his dream playthrough. And being an intelligent person his mind tends to overthink naturally and this caused his dream to have a more realistic tone. Plus, I theorize that because Leona is powerful and his intelligent, his magic and imagination was almost able to overwrite Malleus's, a standard happy dream formula.

Ortho suggests Leona chose a more “realistic mode “on purpose.” Perhaps like I theorized earlier, it is almost a masochistic test to see if he could have everything he wanted? Leona is a very analytical person who enjoys games. It makes sense, the way he often plays chess alone to practice “strategies.” But as I mentioned before, I think he just genuinely believes it's not possible. Ortho mentions he thinks Leona’s the type to understand that an “aggressive urban development” would come with risks.

Jack asks “If Leona knew this was a bad plan then why would he make the citizens suffer and be hated?” (Sheesh, now we know Leona really is the type to play pretend and get a lil too real with it.)

Ruggie adds that Leona may be “doing something he knows he shouldn't be on purpose.” Like maybe he did it to be dastardly and maybe he just wanted to “feel the rush” of being a ruthless and hated king.

When Azul asks Ruggie if he thinks Leona takes pleasure in immoral things he says that he can't say for sure, only that he is a prince that no doubt can take pleasure in “bad things”.

To me, however, it feels like a masochistic move to prove to himself his happiness is unattainable.

Then Sebek chimes in: “How could he go so far to kill his family only to abandon his responsibilities as a king and become a horrible one?"

No one seems to know for sure. Everyone in the group has their theories but the consensus in the group is that - nobody fuckin’ knows why this guy intricately carved himself such a miserable fantasy for himself. Very masochistic for a guy who appears to be so proud huh?

Idia continues to mention that Leona’s imagination is so vast compared to everyone else's. It fills out a whole “world” completely and the mechanics of this world must make sense. He's playing on hard mode. In Leona’s brain this seemed to manifest as if he is to “get what he wants” it can't be serendipitous or through triumph, IT MUST be through tragedy.

Can we lighten up a little?

Again, he may have started to do “good work” but quickly realized that keeping up with all to create a perfect kingdom was waaaay over his head. Maybe he was afraid to give it his all, because he knew everyone would still hate him anyway.

Another reason I think Leona thrives better as a “big fish in a small pond” so to speak. Like his dorm leader role where he can interact directly with his cute (this man used this word a lot for some reason) froshes, make tangible make things better for a small group or community.

But as we saw, even with his dorm Leona began to feel overwhelmed with the pretty promises he made to his underclassmen in Chapter 2 about the Spelldrive tournament. He like…wants to be wanted but he’s terrified of people actually relying on him, because trying your best and then failing anyways is the most painful thing to him. His instinct when he gets too frustrated with something is to act like he never cared about it in the first place or anyone. AKA “I did everything right and it's THE REST OF YOU who are incompetent.”

That’s why I personally think that in the future Leona working within a small community might be a better fit for him, using his skills to see potential in others as a way to connect with them and teach them how to thrive.

So yeah, needless to say the group is stumped on analyzing Leona’s intentions and Azul hilariously notes that Leona is just…a complicated person.

What an understatement.

The group hatches a silly plan to have Ruggie puppet a Cheka hologram and yeah obviously it didn’t work.

This is where it started to get interesting again.

Dream!Kifaji said he’s been “waiting for the day Leona would wake up from his bad dream” and joins the fight against him to wake him. It’s like Leona telling himself that it's time to let his original dream go.

Ortho is surprised Kifaji is on their side, that he should be the darkness pulling Leona back in, but like I mentioned I think Kifaji is actually a “fail safe” Leona created to stay lucid or...maybe the little bit of hope he has fostered now that he has grown from Chapters 2’s events.

Since Kifaji is the one to normally call him out, maybe he's Leona’s way of processing his relationship with him. And that maybe…sometimes as annoying as Kifaji is, he has a point. Kifaji is the one who is implied to have raised him after all, so it's no surprise Leona sees him in a father-like role more than his own father.

“No one understands me, it's not my fault.” Leona laments running away, running away from himself.

Reminds me a lot of Chapter 2 Leona where he began to feel sorry for himself instead of actually trying to fix things. It's clear that no matter how smart and mature Leona is…is that he still has a lot of growing to do. And that his relationship with his family and country are complex. There is not a black and white or good and bad with this situation and I feel like this is important when talking about him and his relationships with his family.

He was very much ostracized and probably neglected to some extent by his real parents but at a certain point, Leona decided to give up on improving himself just because he didn't achieve the results he wanted to. It's one of his biggest flaw.

His complacency is what drags him further into the darkness. Not Kifaji.

Sitting and stewing in his despair and how unfair his life has been instead of reaching out. Rehashing all thise chess strategies alone on his chess board until his brain hurts. Making grandiose plans instead of actually working hard toward a realistic goal.

The idle king. A king with naught. (Nothing.)

I am now realizing that in a way (because Ruggie and Leona are so similar) Jack is Leona’s foil; he is the determined and earnest one who admires Leona at his best. He still holds the innocence and the idealism of working hard.

The group jumped through the darkness with Leona and we are replaying the events of Chapter 2 once again.

Ruggie and Jack watch it go down in dismay. Ruggie addresses that he once did think Leona’s way of thinking/plan was good and it’s cool to see he clearly regrets it now too.

They watch the drama play out as if Leona’s plan in Chapter 2 actually succeeded and see that he craves more. More ways for Savanaclaw to get ahead by unsavory means.

Jack says even if Leona becomes king there will be no end to his dissatisfaction. BOOM, there it is.

That is why Chapter 2 is so mind boggling. Leona’s whole speech was about being king and second. But it’s clear now, it's not what he truly wants. I think Leona is afraid to admit what he really wants. Because that takes vulnerability and then comes the possibility of being rejected.

Jack also notes that, despite Leona getting “everything he wanted” he seems more grumpier and dissatisfied than usual.

“Leona is not your King, hes’ our Dorm Leader,” Jack growls. They fight and we get a nice callback to Lion King here. “Remember who you are.”

As Leona wakes up from his dreams he straight up says, yeah the scheme from Chapter 2 was…stupid. (Nice.)

Oh and we finally get some acknowledgement that Ruggie feels like Leona abandoned him in Chapter 2 which SHEEEEEEEESH. This is a deep cut for me, considering Ruggie’s real dad abandoned him. And it really confirms the fact he sees Leona as a father/big brother figure.

But, Leona doesn't, he sacrifices himself for Ruggie as the whole group tries to escape the crumbling dream. And while Ruggie cries out for Leona, Leona goes down smirking not knowing what will happen to him.

It’s time for him to face himself, his blot monster.

Blot!Leona wants them dead, all of them. Cheka, Falena, everyone. The real Leona finds it kind of pathetic. Because, in reality, I don't think Leona hates Cheka or Falena and he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Leona admits to his blot that yeah, no he can’t do the job. He can’t be king. And instead of it being a negative it’s more a relief? Maybe he is incompetent too. He is addressing himself and his previous grandiose illusions. He hasn’t done anything worthy of being king.

However, he will not give up. He’s finally living up to Savanaclaw’s motto of perseverance (which he sorta laughed off in Chapter 2?)

This next part is what struck me the most because. He just lays it out so simply, finally saying it out loud.

Self awareness!! Like he finally said it!! (And I felt very vindicated in this moment, NGL)

What he desires most is the approval of others.

Ah, and Blot!Leona responds with the fact he can't earnestly try, it's too painful to think of failing. Props for Leona acknowledging his flaws! Just like with the other overblotters. But I'm especially floored here because of how PRIDEFUL he is all the time.

In order to have better relationships with people, he has to leave that whole “they all hated me” shit behind. Because in reality, there are people who care for him despite his flaws. There are those who look up to him and admire him, for him.

But, the idea of that I think is so…crazy to him that he tends to deny its very existence. Then when he is genuinely complimented on his leadership or whatever skills he brushes it off.

He calls himself disgusting which feels kinda sad but it’s proof he has moved on from his previous way of things. What did I say earlier? Leona is afraid of failure.

Giving being a king a earnest optimistic go is too painful for him because ultimately he is afraid of failing. Like he was happier to play the role of tyrannical king than to bother to build relations with the citizens of his kingdom.

As his blot self withers away it’s almost…sad compared to the previous blot monster showdowns we’ve seen. It mentions something about “his friends” (A reference to Scar’s final words.) like he’s reaching out for Leona so it's not alone anymore. And Leona almost embraces his monster? It’s clear he feels pity for this thing…him. His pain, his depression, his loneliness. Maybe a step in the way of self-love? He acknowledges (almost as to soothe it) that it will always be with him, clawing from inside. Except now, he won’t give up.

He vows that he will get what he wants one day, for both of them. He’ll have his “own throne and pride” instead of wanting for someone else’s. He’ll find his place to belong through his own merit.

It reminds me of that expression “find your own tribe” which is an expression that those who are not close to heirt families understand all too well. He wants to find satisfaction outside his desire to rule and maybe because we know he prefers NRC to home, this confirms his fondness for his dorm life. (Savanaclaw found a family dorm.)

When he returns to his original dream of being king Kifaji is there as they look on at Pride Rock. The fact that it is raining is telling that hope has returned. (Just like at the end of Lion King) and that by accepting that “being king” is not what he really wants now “all things are balanced again”.

They have a nice moment here. Leona acknowledging that he has been given the tools to do good things by Kifaji’s training is a big mature moment for him. (Especially how they acted toward one another in the Tamashina Mina event) And Kifaji praising him, since this a dream, could be a testament to what he wishes would happen between them.

AKA Leona finally feels more, “at peace” with himself.

As Leona destroys this false kingdom with his sand he seems reserved, it’s almost bittersweet as it all settles over him, his new found aspirations, letting the old ones go. He's letting the past go. A big theme in Lion King. (I really feel the writers must be fans of the movies.)

Kifaji says: “Go to the place you really belong.”

This line kinda got me. Because the implication is that Night Raven College and his dorm is where he really belongs. Leona is confirming that his experiences at NRC have shaped who he is SO MUCH.

For years he accepted his life as it was, a cage, and now he is acknowledging that he has the power to break that cage and do whatever he wants. It’s a great callback to the advice he gave Jamil in Chapter 6.

This is quite refreshing as he mentioned before that it was too “late for him”. Now, he realizes it isn’t.

Back with the gang, Ruggie admits his fear that Leona will abandon him again. Leona denies it, and says somewhat casually that he is in fact a true friend of his. This feels like a clever inversion of the line that Scar says to the hyenas about being his “friends.”

But, we know now that Leona does mean it now. And this shows Leona’s desire to finally stray from the “path” of his Great Seven counterpart and actually like…have friends?

The reunion of the Savanaclaw trio is actually really sweet. For a dorm full of cocky jocks with strong personalities they seem to be so genuinely happy to be reunited.

Jack bursting out into tears and crying got me tearing up. Like Ruggie and Leona clearly are bit more reserved in their emotions but we see Savanaclaw really are close, despite their disagreements. They care for one another as a dysfunctional little family.

As a dorm that doesn't get much mainstream attention compared to others it was so nice to have this little moment. It's hard to tell, but I’m 99% sure there was a group hug based on how the sprites moved and the sound effects. At least a nice back pat from Leona. (Thanks, dad.)

All in all, I really...enjoyed his dream section. As someone who is pretty hyper-critical, for the most part, it satisfied most of the things I wanted to feel. I even got emotional at a few points! Yes, it would have been nicer to spend more time with “king” Leona and dive into it more. Or get more lore about his family. But, he admitted it FINALLY, everything I have clocked about him all those years ago. It’s very satisfying to see his growth in a tangible straightforward way, instead of just me reading between the lines.

I hope we will continue to see even more growth with his character (Like we did in the Halloween event) and I’m excited to see the role he will play in the rest of Chapter 7, even if it’s just him being a cranky old man. (What do you expect he was raised by one?)

I'd like to end this with some positivity. As someone who deep dives into character stuff a lot I know it's really comforting to see part of yourself reflected back in your favorite characters.

To anyone reading who feels they have things in common with Leona or his despair, the truth is that you should keep going, even if it's just to spite the world itself.

Your vision and presence in this world are valid all on their own and that failing is not indicative of your value as a person. It never will be.

Keep fighting to find your place, your pack and never forget who you are.💚

Thanks for reading!! This one took quite a bit to edit and think through so if you like my Leona analyses, I’d appreciate a reblog or even just if you wanna share it with your friends! Shoutout to the youtuber ガスマスクゲーマー whose video I pulled these screenshots from. Thank you!

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